


Football Poses

by ladderandsteps



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Football | Soccer, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladderandsteps/pseuds/ladderandsteps
Summary: At Alfred's new school, football is the most popular sport. Going around telling everyone that he used to be a football god at his old school, he never realized that football in this school was actually 'soccer.' Now, he has to train before his first game before his reputation goes down the drain.Meanwhile, Arthur Kirkland is a football star. As much as he does not want to coach Alfred, he can't help but think the American teen is charming.





	1. Arthur Meets Alfred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the support for my other story! It really means a lot to me :)
> 
> Just to clear things up, in this story, the characters are in a preparatory high school. Like Hogwarts, this school is split up into 4 major schools: Arts & Humanities, Engineering, Science & Technology, and Business. 
> 
> Because football fever runs high in this school, there is an intense rivalry between students of the different schools. So, usually people don't talk to students of the other school unless necessary.

 ✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

              “Alright, everyone, I hope you understand the plan. When in doubt,” the annoying voice stopped for a second as Arthur became relieved.

              The complete silence should have thrown Arthur off, but instead he merely flipped to the next page of his graphic novel. Normally, he wouldn’t speak to a student in the rival building, but he had known Kiku for years. And he wasn’t going to give up on receiving the latest edition of _Eros_ just because of some petty school rivalry.

              “ _Rosbif!_ ”

              Arthur’s eyebrow twitched. Just when he was getting to the good scenes. His head poked up from his novel, “Yes, frog?”

              “Have you even listened to a word I said?” the French teen crossed his arms in annoyance.

              Leaning back to the wall in a sigh, Arthur tried to recollect the nonsense that Francis had sprouted out to the team for the past twenty-five minutes. Knowing the French teen for the past four years since he attended the school, Arthur knew all the plans and maneuvers Francis ever suggested complete disasters.

              With a mocking grin, Arthur snorted, “Expel all our energy in the beginning and then when we run out of energy, fall to our knees. Consort with the enemy if all else fails.”

              “Oh and you forgot that we have to wave our white flags when we beg on our knees,” Feliciano, an airy Italian junior, added. Arthur could only grin at that.

              “I’m hurt,” Francis huffed. “You should be listening to me instead of reading that lewd novel of yours.”

              Arthur hummed as he went back to his reading, “We are the worst team the Art & Humanities school has seen in years. With our pathetic stats, we should be dead last,” he muttered.

              Though they had poor coordination on the field, they won most of their games. Not because they scored, but because Arthur refused to let the other team score. In the four years that Arthur has attended this school, he has not let one ball pass through the nets. If it weren’t for him, they would’ve been dead last.

              Their games were often an embarrassment to the school. What with Feliciano actually waving a white flag and calling out for peace last year, and Francis actually trying to score for the other team two years back.

              “Oh yes, without our wonderful, majestic _rosbif_ , we’d lose every year,” Francis cried out in mockery.

              Arthur laid down and flipped to another page in his book, “I think you would enjoy the position on page 117, Frog. It’s adventurous, up your alley?”

              The book was pulled out of his hands, and Arthur was accosted by a hurt look from Francis. “No fair, _mon petit lapin_! You told me that you were catching up to me, not reading ahead of me! Now I have to catch up!” Francis sat down on the bench and flipped back a few pages.

              Now this was usually how their team meetings went.

              The first ten minutes, they talked about lunch—Feliciano no doubt adding that he had pasta. The next fifteen minutes or so, they would talk about strategies for the game. Five of those minutes would be spent of what to do if the other team was unusually intimidating and scary. Usually, the words ‘Surrender’ and ‘Beg’ came into the discussion—but only when Francis was speaking. The next five minutes would be spent by Arthur and Francis arguing. Either about _Eros_ or some other mundane topic. And the last 30 minutes? Most of the team usually packed up and left since there was nothing to discuss.

              Antonio came up behind Francis and widened his eyes, “Is this a new edition?” Pulling it out of Francis’s hands and ignoring the cries of protests, Antonio grinned, “You know, this almost looks like my cute Romano and me!”

              Francis grumbled as he crossed his arms, “You know Arthur, page 117 is not nearly as sensual as page 87. Are you sure your head is right?”

              Feliciano and Roderich already began to pack their bags. Francis frowned as he stared at the team, “What are you all doing?”

              “Packing, you and Arthur talk silly nonsense at the end anyway,” Roderich pushed up his glasses. “I’d rather spend my time practicing for my piano recital.”

              Francis rushed back to the front snatching _Eros_ out of Antonio’s hands in the process. With a nervous chuckle, he clapped his hands, “ _Très désolé mes amis,_ but you all have to stay here for just a moment more.”

              Pulling out his laptop, he pressed a few buttons before clearing his throat, “Now normally, I wouldn’t worry about any of our games. We’ve been winning the Football Cup the past three years because of _rosbif_ , but a little mole told me that we might need to try a bit harder this year.”

              “At surrendering?” Arthur snorted, still a bit salty that Francis tried to score against his own team.

              “Shut up, _rosbif_!” Francis huffed and crossed his arms. “If anything, we need to worry about the Engineering School. Even you Arthur. Ludwig almost scored against you last year.”

              “That’s because Kiku was telling me about volume 18 of _Eros_ ,” Arthur scoffed.

              Rolling his eyes, Francis shook his head, “Well, this year Kiku will just distract you with the platinum edition of _Eros_ , and you will fall into their trap.” He turned his laptop to show the team a picture of a blond-haired dork with a huge smile. If Arthur was not seeing things, he could’ve sworn he saw stars in the dork’s eyes.

              “This is Alfred F. Jones, our number one enemy,” Francis coughed. “As a new transfer to the Engineering School, he was quickly admitted to the team, and rumor is, he’s great at football.” Francis slammed his fist onto the table suddenly causing almost all of them—except Arthur—to jump, “And we will not be beaten by the Engineering School. Especially not in my senior year! So, don’t let down your big brother!”

              “That’s great, Francis,” Antonio started. “But, how are we going to beat them if we…stink?” A small smile passed between Francis and Antonio suddenly. Arthur should’ve known they were scheming against him at this point, but he was too dense at the moment. Probably because he couldn’t finish the chapter he was on.

              “Great question, Antonio. While the rest of us talk strategy, Arthur is going to spy on Alfred and learn how he plays so he won’t lose on game day,” Francis grinned, a grin that spread from one ear to the next.

              Spy on Alfred?

              While the rest of the team talked strategy?

              Arthur crossed his arms as he thought about the logistics of them winning. If Alfred truly was that good of a player, it wouldn’t matter. Arthur wasn’t letting any of the balls out of his sight. He’s had ample practice with his brothers before. Being a human target, he had to protect himself from all sorts of calamities.

              In the end, it had worked for all of them. Arthur’s brothers were able to perfect their skills as strikers, and Arthur was able to perfect his skills as keeper.

              “No need to spy on someone,” Arthur grabbed his bag from the ground. “I’ll just have Alistair play ball with me during the weekends to prepare.”

              Arthur’s brothers were the only ones who scored a point against him. If this Alfred was truly phenomenal, he would have to be just as good as Arthur’s brothers—with all of them being in professional teams.

              “ _Rosbif_ , don’t you want to learn new techniques. You know how your brothers play. What if Alfred catches you by surprise?”

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

              Although he still refused to sink that low to _spy_ on another team’s player, Arthur couldn’t help but collapse on the stands. No one had officially reserved the field, so he had every right to be here to watch Alfred, publicly instead of secretively.

              With a sigh, he stretched his pale legs so they could catch the sunlight. After smearing on SPF 10,000 or what-not sunscreen, he hoped his skin didn’t peel off. Otherwise, the Frog and him would have a word, in private.

              The American teen walked into the field and set the bag down. If he had noticed Arthur, he said nothing. After setting the bag down, he immediately started to stretch. Arthur pulled out his notepad and flipped to the page that was marked exclusively for a certain Alfred F. Jones.

_Alfred F. Jones_

_-Junior_

_-Loud & Obnoxious_

_-Plans to solve Global Warming by building robots to shield the earth from chemicals or some random crap_

_-Drowns himself in hamburgers (*Note to self, instead of calling him bird brain, call him burger brain)_

_-Is part of the Pen15 club (what the hell is that club anyway?)_

              Uncapping his special unicorn pen—don’t mock him—he prepared himself for an intense note taking session.

              As Alfred began stretching, the notes continued to fill his book.

_-Is that a six-pack I see?_

_-And that trail of hair on his abs? It’ll be a potential distractor…must warn the team_

_-This boy is ripped_

_-How in world is he so ripped?_

_-Does Kiku know? I want to see him featured in Eros_

              Arthur blinked as he reread the notes. All of them—every last one of them—were downright embarrassing and irrelevant to the matter at hand. Ripping the page out of his notebook, he stuffed it into his bag and started a new page. Fresh with more relevant notes this time—cough, cough.

              Glancing up at the American teen, Arthur relaxed into the bleachers. He saw the wonderful football coming out of the bag. Now is when he really should be taking the notes.

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

              Arthur’s eyes scanned through the expenses of the French department. They went overbudget this semester, which was never a good thing. Taking his unicorn pen, he began to circle a few of the more irrelevant expenses. Francis really had to learn to not be partial when approving the French department’s expenses.

              “ _Bonjour mon petit lapin!_ ” Francis laughed in his usual obnoxious manner as he walked up to Arthur. “How was Alfred? Amazing, I suppose?”

              Arthur snorted as he leaned back into his seat and stretched. He only needed two minutes to decide that Alfred was bloody awful at the sport. If Arthur thought his team was awful, then he was truly wrong. His team played like God compared to Alfred.

              “He’s not competition, Francis. We have nothing to worry,” Arthur went back to looking at the expenses before they were rudely pulled away by Francis. Raising his head in annoyance, his eyebrow twitched, “What?”

              “How can you determine he’s not competition?” Francis’s nose crinkled. “Of course he’s competition! He’s apparently amazing at football.”

              Arthur slammed his fists on the desk as he stood up, “The boy couldn’t even kick the ball properly! He kicked the ball once and then spent the next fifteen minutes on the ground crying or doing some other random thing. I kid you not, he had a cloud of misery over him!”

              “Your imaginary friends were there too?” Francis gasped.

              “For the last time, they are not imaginary!”

              Pinching the bridge of his nose, Francis shook his head, “Arthur, maybe Alfred was purposely playing awfully because he saw you there.”

              Arthur frowned as he calmed down. Tinkerbell had suggested that to him, but he brushed it off thinking it was impossible at the time. Burger brain couldn’t possibly have that much intelligence. But now that Francis had also suggested that…it made reasonable sense.

              “So what are you trying to tell me?” Arthur asked slowly.

              “Don’t put yourself out in the open! Spy on him!”

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

              He wasn’t going to listen to the Frog’s words. Hiding under the bleachers was undignified behavior. As school president, he couldn’t set the example that hiding under the bleachers was acceptable behavior.

              So, he sat down.

              On his head was a _Sherlock Holmes_ hat. He cut the fabric that should’ve been there in the ‘O’ of Sherlock. Then, using masking tape, he taped his cellphone to his hat and started to record. No point in wasting time by watching Alfred make a debacle of himself.

              As Alfred came into the field, Arthur took the moment to enjoy Alfred’s stretch routine. Once the teen took out his football though, Arthur pulled out his copy of _Eros_.

              It had continued that way for the past two weeks. Alfred would fail at practicing, and Arthur would be sitting in the stands reading his graphic novels. It was a win-win situation for him, since he just forwarded the videos of Alfred practicing to Francis. Missing practices to watch Alfred had been a true blessing. He was fully caught up to all of the _Eros_ novels. Which meant he was ready to start the newest series _Lust_.

              He pulled out the first book of _Eros_ , as Kiku still hadn’t given him _Lust_ yet, and flipped to the more raunchier scenes.

              “Hey!”

              _Hmm…. The voice has the perfect timbre to fit this character. I wonder how a moan would sound._

              “What’chya reading?”

              Arthur flipped the page once more before the novel was pulled out of his hands. Seriously, this had to be the second time this happened in his month. As Arthur prepared himself to accost the thief, he blinked when he noticed the American teen holding the novel with a pink blush covering his cheeks.

              “Is half the school sex-deprived teenagers?” the American’s blush deepened.

              Arthur snatched the novel from Alfred’s hands, “And are you a prude?”

              Alfred glanced away, towards Arthur’s backpack. Rubbing the back of his neck, he shrugged slowly, “I mean…the real thing is much better though…”

              And just like that, Arthur met Alfred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! See you next week for the next chapter :)


	2. Alfred Needs a Coach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! Glad you guys are liking it so far.

              He flipped through the pages casually. For the past six months, the theme of Senior Ball was supposed to be spy/thriller themed. They had even talked to the venue to make sure it was okay to have a fake murder scene, including fake blood, police tape, and Arthur dressed up as police officer. It was a brilliant idea for the ball. It was unique, and if they executed it well, it would’ve been the ball of the _decade_.

              Unfortunately, Francis suddenly decided the theme for the ball should be more romantic. Since it was their last year at Hetalia Preparatory School, it only made sense to have a ‘normal’ ball. Most of the other seniors on the council agree with him, and just like that, months of preparation had gone down the drain.

              Elizabeta suggested an, “Under the Stars,” ball theme, and the council—with the exception of Arthur—unanimously agreed.

              The plan was to have blankets arranged outside so couples could sit outside and enjoy the stars if they wanted to. If they weren’t interested in the stars outside, they can be interested in the stars inside that the Senior Council make.

              How they would make the stars, Arthur had no clue.

              The council had a ton of ideas, but they didn’t know how to accomplish those ideas, so they left all of the work to him. _As if_ he knew which decorations can be put together to create the illusion of stars.

              A bunch of magazines dropped down on his desk, and Arthur raised his brow in curiosity. Picking up the magazine, he read out the title, “Brides,” turning back to Francis he slowly asked, “And why did you give me this? Are you ready to propose or something?”

              Francis grinned as he sat on the desk, “Yeah, I even went to the registry office for the official marriage certificate,” Francis gave him a wink before loosening his tie. Arthur’s nose wrinkled in disgust as Francis sighed, “No, Elizabeta and the other girls were suggesting I bring you this for ideas. Apparently a Hungarian celebrity used ‘Under the Stars’ as her theme.”

              Arthur handed the magazine back to Francis, “I don’t know why you had to open your big mouth to change the theme.”

              Flipping the pages to the magazine lazily, Francis snorted, “Arthur, do you really want to spend the last night of your life at this school solving a petty crime?”

              “Yes,” Arthur seethed. “And it wouldn’t be a _petty_ scene!”

              “Well I don’t want to do that and most of the others don’t either. Dancing would be much more difficult in a murder scene. It doesn’t set the mood when there’s fake blood and police tape.”

              Not being able to dance was one of the reasons why Arthur wanted to do a spy/thriller theme. In all his years at the school, he was absolutely dreading the Senior Ball. He may be good with his feet while playing football, but when it came to dancing? Awful.

              It was also one of the reasons why he took the leadership position in the school. The school president had to oversee some of the finer details of the night; thus, he or she wouldn’t be present for most of the dance. However, Francis and Antonio had taken care of the situation by suggesting they rotate the duties of overseeing the night. Each person would spend one half an hour to an hour making sure everything was going well.

              It didn’t matter though.

              As long as he didn’t have a date to the Ball, he would not be obligated to dance.

              “Candles in the shapes of stars?” Francis smirked. “We should get these, to hell with the fire code.”

              “We are not burning down the venue. Find LED lights in the shape of stars,” Arthur grumbled as he turned back to the papers he was looking over.

              After a moment, or two, Francis closed the magazine and carelessly tossed it on the table. With a sigh, he turned to Arthur, “How goes the spying sessions with Alfred? Did you learn any of his secret tricks?”

              “The boy can’t play for his life,” Arthur snorted as he signed the document to approve of the budget for the decorations. “I don’t understand why you insist that I still watch him.”

              In the two weeks he had watched Alfred, he had noticed improvements. Alfred had a bit more control over the ball, and he seemed to be a fairly decent striker. Though, he wasn’t someone worth fretting over. If anything, Arthur would be better off spying on Ludwig.

              Picking up the paperwork, he dumped it into Francis’s hands, “I’ve signed all of these, so now it’s your turn. Read them, this time, frog! I’m going to quiz you later.”

              He heard a cry of protest coming from behind.

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

              Alfred decided to just kick the ball in this practice instead of practicing the common football drills. There was absolutely no coordination of the ball. For a second, Arthur wondered if Alfred was just giving up. Last he remembered, Alfred was _selected_ for the Engineering team by Ludwig. With a sigh, Arthur ran into the field.

              “You are kicking the ball improperly,” Arthur crossed his arms with a frown.

              Alfred turned to him, mostly red and sweaty, “What?” he breathlessly asked.

              Picking up the ball gently, Arthur brushed off the grass, “Do you enjoy mutilating the ball?” Dropping the ball to the ground gently, Arthur rested his foot on the ball, “Football is a sport of patience. Respect the ball if you ever want to get better at playing.”

              “Easy for you to say,” Alfred snorted. Collapsing to the ground, Alfred hid his face, “You don’t know anything about me.”

              “Know anything about you?” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, when you first came to this school, you were a bumbling idiotic American who confused football to mean American football. So, you went around the school _boasting_ that you were a terrific football player. When tryouts season came along, your idiotic brain realized that we play ‘soccer’ here and not American football,” Arthur’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

              Alfred glanced up at him with a wondrous look.

              “And for god knows what reason, Ludwig decided to take you in on the team. So, instead of telling him the truth, you decided that you can just magically learn football by yourself before the first meet,” Arthur leaned down towards the American, “You disgust me.”

              “I disgust myself as well if you put it that way,” Alfred frowned with a blush as he scratched the back of his head. “But I’ve actually tried to tell, and Ludwig refuses to listen. He says that now that the final roster has been posted, he can’t do anything to change it.”

              With a sigh, Alfred ran his fingers through his hair, “Look, I’ve tried, alright? Once I realized I couldn’t just leave the team, I asked Kiku if he would help coach me. But Kiku is too busy managing the school’s magazine collection. So, I thought I would take it upon myself. I would learn how to play before I look like a fool out on the playing field.”

              Arthur snorted, “With that playing, you already _are_ a fool.”

              Arthur picked up the ball and casually tossed it into the air. Using his foot to keep it in the air, he lazily turned to Alfred, “Hey brat, look at my feet. Do I use my toes?”

              Alfred frowned as he watched the ball bounce up and down. His brows came together, and his blue eyes started to clear up slowly, “No.”

              “So, stop using your toes,” Arthur tossed the ball back to Alfred. Glancing down at his watch, he scoffed, “You’re lucky I’m not busy today. Prove to me you aren’t the fool you seem to be.”

              Excuses, excuses, Francis would have teased him relentlessly. Arthur was ridiculously busy, especially since the new prom theme would require brainstorming new décor as well as creating a new budget for that décor. Not to mention, he picked up a late shift at the café.

              But there was something about the American that made him drop all of his work.

              It would be a pity to watch him fumble on the field.

              Alfred nodded his head as he stood up. Throwing the ball into the air, Arthur already had his first complaint, “You threw the ball too high.”

              “Sorry, let me try again,” Alfred reached for the ball and tossed it gently. Using the top surface area of his foot, he was able to keep the ball in the area as well as receive a grunt of approval from Arthur. But his success was short-lived.

              “Sorry,” a blush covered his cheeks as he repeated his apology. Arthur had to give him that. Alfred had manners, unlike a certain Frog that he knew.  

              It was charming. As Alfred tried to prove himself, Arthur couldn’t help but remember his childhood when his brothers taunted him for being a pathetic player. Arthur would try his best to prove to his brothers that he was a worthy player, but they would always taunt him. It was one of the reasons why he preferred playing cricket. His brothers couldn’t play, which meant they couldn’t taunt him if he did anything wrong either.

              Whenever possible, Arthur would offer advice to Alfred. Such as how to angle his foot. When Alfred was able to bounce the ball for one minute without ever dropping the ball, Arthur suggested they practice passing. Tossing his school blazer towards the bleachers, he unbuttoned the first few buttons of his dress shirt and loosened his tie. Alfred’s eyes were trained on him, and they slightly widened.

              “W-what are you doing?” Alfred’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

              With a scoff, Arthur rolled his eyes, “I’m not stripping for you, Alfred. It’s blazing today, and I’d rather not be a pile of goo.”

              “I see,” Alfred glanced away causing Arthur to lift his lips upward in a smirk.

              “Disheartened that I didn’t strip for you,” Arthur casually mentioned as he kicked the ball to Alfred.

              “NO!”

              He smiled. His brothers often mentioned how they love teasing him. Apparently, a flustered Arthur was fun to watch. Now that he had a chance to tease someone else, he realized how fun it was. He should speak with Alfred more.

              As they kicked the ball back and forth, he couldn’t help but yell at Alfred. Often, when Alfred passed the ball, he kicked it too hard—causing Arthur to run across the field to bring it back—or he kicked it with barely any strength. After a string of hard kicks, and Arthur shouting, “Stop kicking the ball too hard!” Alfred began to use very little strength.

              “Kick the ball harder!” Arthur shouted.

              “Like this?” Alfred kicked the ball, but it only went three-quarters of the way towards Arthur.

              Throwing the ball back towards Alfred, he glared as he shouted, “HARDER GOD—.”

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

              Alfred laughed nervously as he pushed the cup of hot Darjeeling tea towards the angry Brit who was already sporting a pinkish bruise on the top of his head. The Brit’s brows came together as he scowled and snatched the drink. With another famous blush, Alfred sat down uncomfortably and took a sip of his drink.

              “Of course, you’re drinking _that_ ,” Arthur spat as he took a sip of his tea.

              “That?” Alfred echoed.

              “The bastardization of tea,” Arthur expanded. “Everyone knows tea should be drunk while hot. And what is that straw? Are you a juvenile?”

              Alfred’s fingers grazed his straw, “Jeez, if you really want I can drink without the straw.” He removed the blue and green colored straw and set it aside on a napkin. Taking another sip, he hummed as he glanced around. “You know, this is a pretty nice bakery. I mean, they don’t have coffee, but they seem to have everything else.”

              Arthur bit his tongue before saying anything. This little bakery was where he worked part-time. It had been here for a long time, and most students enjoyed the pastries and drinks that were provided. They often asked other students what should come to the bakery. Although coffee was requested, Arthur adamantly refused. Ever since he was a child, the smell of coffee infuriated him.

              “Are you okay?” Alfred’s brows came together as his gaze was focused on the bright reddish/purple spot that was forming at the top of Arthur’s head. Alfred’s fingertips grazed Arthur’s bruise before they quickly retracted back. The blush was on his face once again, “Ah…sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

              After taking another sip, Alfred continued, “You know,” he pushed his glasses up. “You surprised me today. I was sure you would read another chapter of that novel of yours.”

              “I finished,” Arthur airily mentioned. With a scoff, he narrowed his eyes, “You know, I have better things to do than read _Eros_ all the time.”

              “Oh?” Alfred’s voice was slightly mocking. “Really sorry, I thought that reading _that_ piece of work is all you ever did with your life.”

              Arthur’s eye twitched, “Git,” he muttered under his breath. “And _that_ piece of work is called _Eros_.”

              Arthur turned to the menu to see what the daily special of the day was. Battenberg cake? He might need to buy some along with another cup of tea. Pulling out his phone, he texted Antonio and Francis if they wanted to anything. Glancing at his watch, he turned to Alfred, “Well it was—,”

              “Be my coach, please Arthur,” Alfred blurted out suddenly.

              Arthur raised his brow. It clearly was a joke. How could Alfred ask him to be a coach if Arthur clearly played for the opposing team. With a glare, Arthur picked up his bag, “Thanks, but if you’re trying to gain any information about our playing style, I suggest you go beg elsewhere.” He slung his bag over his shoulder as he left the bakery.

              “Wait,” Alfred shouted as he ran after him. Arthur glanced back at him with a glare, “I really have no ulterior move. Quite honestly, even if you tell me all your game strategies, I won’t understand a single word! I swear!” Alfred frowned, “It’s just, before I screwed up and hit the ball too hard, I realized that I learned a lot from you! I made more improvements during this one hour that I practiced with you than in the two weeks I practiced by myself!”

              Arthur snorted as he turned to glare at a tree. He had to admit. The boy was admirable. Most people wouldn’t dare come to ask him for football help. It was understood in his own team that Arthur had his own routine. He didn’t usually train with the others, and if he did, he preferred to be alone. It’s why Francis had given him the moniker, “The black sheep of the team!”

              “I clearly don’t have the time to train you,” Arthur began slowly. “I mean I spend most of my time reading _Eros_ , anyway.”

              Alfred winced, “Well maybe not _all_ the time.”

              “Too bad,” Arthur smirked as he began to walk away. “Find yourself another coach. And if you can’t, humor me while you play on the field. The worse you play, the better I enjoy myself.”

              “Aw, come on, dude! Please? I’ll do anything you ask, name it?” Alfred bit his lip and pouted. His sky-blue eyes seemed slightly lighter than usual, and the cowlick in his hair swayed as the wind blew. He looked like a little kid. This was not good. He liked all kids with the exception of his cousin Peter Kirkland.

              Running his fingers through his hair, he took a deep breath. There was only one way to get rid of prude Alfred. Turning to Alfred, he chuckled slowly, “Heh, alright, I’ll _consider_ your request if you do something for me.”

              His sky-blue eyes brightened, and Arthur could’ve sworn he saw _stars_ in Alfred’s eyes.

              “Really?” his voice was high and breathy, so much like a little kid’s voice. “What is it? What is it?” Alfred’s excitement spread through his body and he began to bounce slowly.

              With a smirk, Arthur crossed his arms, “Read _Eros_ , and then I’ll consider becoming your coach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I should have the next chapter done next week, so see you then :)


	3. Alfred Gets a Coach

              Arthur was convinced that Alfred was never going to talk to him ever again. The boy was too much of a prude to even _think_ about reading _Eros_. However, he had to admit. The time he had spent with Alfred thus far was precious. He had never known someone in this school to be this shy. It was refreshing.

              But now that Alfred was out of his life, Arthur was free to spend the one hour—which he usually reserved for Alfred—on something else. His something else at the moment was to look over the budget for the Senior Ball.

              So far, he rejected 99.99% of the council’s ideas for the ball.

              It was unnecessary to have appetizers, a full course meal, an ice cream bar, a candy bar, and gourmet pastries for a three-hour ball. It was just as unnecessary to have to buy expensive star-themed decorations just because a Hungarian bride used the exact same decorations for her wedding.

              As he was crossing off more ridiculous ideas for the ball, he heard a small knock. Lifting his head slightly, he frowned when he realized that it was probably Francis or Elizabeta coming in with a new proposal for decorations or new food ideas.

              But instead, he was pleasantly surprised to see Alfred standing there. He wore a Letterman jacket that was red, white, and blue, and he had a large soft drink that he was busy slurping. Walking up to Arthur slowly, he dropped his soft drink on the table, as Arthur pulled away the papers on his desk hurriedly.

              Glaring at Alfred for the obvious disruption, he spat, “What?”

              “So,” Alfred’s lips came together tightly. “I’ve been thinking…”

              “That’s good, at least your brain cells won’t die from inactivity,” Arthur muttered as he began organizing the papers again. The faster he could get through these plans, the sooner he could submit the full details of the Senior Ball to the school committee. If there was even a single splotch of that abysmal sugary drink, he would have to reprint and make his corrections all over again.

              Alfred huffed, “Whatever.” Taking another slurp from his drink, this time being more obnoxiously loud than before, Alfred stated, “I want you to change your request. I’ll do anything else for you.”

              After a moment of silence, Alfred frowned and hurriedly added, “Except give up my body or my soul.”

              Arthur snorted as he dropped the stack of papers on his desk. Pointing to the papers, he raised a brow, “Unlike you, I have work. Do you mind if we have this conversation elsewhere?”

              “No can do, dude,” Alfred pulled a chair out and dropped down. “The first practice is this Saturday and I don’t want to screw up. You have to help me out, like now. Just tell me what I should do? Do you want me to organize papers for you? Or instead help you with some—,”

              Arthur leaned back into his seat. He tapped his fingers on his knee and thought about what he could say to get rid of Alfred. As much as he enjoyed Alfred’s presence—especially his blushes and embarrassment—Arthur could not imagine spending hours and hours teaching someone how to play football in such a short time span.

              If he could turn an amateur player into a super star overnight, he certainly would have spent more time with his own teammates.

              Kicking the ball across the field, doing drills… they weren’t enough.

              In Arthur’s experience, he knew people had to have the passion to play the sport.

              Feliciano was a wonderful human being. He was nice and aloof, but if he even had 1% of the passion he had for pasta, he would be playing so much better on the field.

              Glancing at Alfred once more, Arthur began to think about all he knew about Alfred.

              American.

              Fit.

              Plays American football instead of football.

              Obnoxious.

              It was hard to think he was fit to be Alfred’s coach. He preferred to do everything in solitude. Alfred would do much better with another coach. Ludwig was a football champion at school. His record was amazing, and if Alfred wanted to play, Ludwig was the man to go to. Ludwig was even patient, which Arthur definitely wasn’t.

              Alfred’s mouth continued to move. He made wild gestures as he suggested what he could do instead.

              Leaning forward, Arthur raised a brow, “Alfred, you do understand that I asked you to read _Eros_ because I knew you absolutely wouldn’t?”

              Arthur leaned over and reached for the fresh scones he had made this morning. It was his best batch yet. Taking a small bite out of his scone, he offered it to Alfred. Giving him a strange look, Alfred shook his head politely.

              Gulping, Arthur wiped his mouth with a napkin, “My offer still stands though. If you read _Eros_ , I will agree to be your coach.”

              “Aw come on, man,” Alfred pouted. “My grandmother made me eat her famous soap when I said a cuss word. If she knew I read _that_ , she might make me wash out my eyes with her soap. Artie, my vision is awful. Like I am blind without my glasses.” Alfred leaned over, “You’re a nice guy, aren’t you Artie? Clearly you wouldn’t be that cruel?”

              “It’s Arthur,” he corrected with a frown. As he leaned back into his seat, his lips curved slightly upward, “And I’m a heartless bastard, so I don’t fucking care. Read the book, or find another coach.”

              He thought nothing could go wrong after that. Surely after hearing that, Alfred would just wallow in his little corner, and he could proceed with his life. But he definitely didn’t expect Alfred to lean over the table suddenly and knock the soft-drink in the process.

              The lid of the drink slipped off, and the black, carbonated drink spilled all over his papers.

              It was as if time had stopped completely.

              Watching the drink seep through the papers slowly, Arthur placed his hand over where his heart was supposed to be.

              _Good, it’s still beating._

              Five hours of work—scratching out the dumb ideas plus all the suggestions he had made in the margins—were gone in two seconds. Five bloody hours of work!

              He would have to print Elizabeta and Francis’s thirty-five-page proposal all over again.

              “Sorry,” Alfred mentioned slowly. His blue eyes were wide and his mouth was in the shape of an ‘o.’ When he saw Arthur’s face turning a pinkish red, Alfred quickly stood up and reached for the soaked papers, “I-I will write up all of this! Just print out a new copy and I’ll do all of this. It’ll be done in a jiffy!”

              No matter how much Arthur tried to get Alfred to leave, Alfred refused to leave. Instead, Alfred took Arthur’s pen and began to scribble down the notes that Arthur had written. With a sigh, Arthur stared at Alfred from his seat. Every now and then, Alfred would apologize once more and Arthur would grunt back saying, “It’s fine you git.”

              After almost two hours, Alfred walked up to him and handed him the papers with a grin plastered on his face, “All done! See, you didn’t even have to lift your finger.”

              Arthur took the papers gingerly and his green eyes scanned the paper. The red ink was blotchy and messy….? Leaning closer to the papers, Arthur squinted his eyes as he tried to read the text, “LED candles are lame, you guys should consider fireworks. No one will ever forget a firework show! :p ;D!!”

              “What the hell?” Arthur picked up the papers that were soaked with coke. He definitely did not remember mentioning anything with fireworks. Scanning the paper, his eyes landed on Elizabeta’s request that all the seniors light up a candle. Right next to it, he crossed the suggestion off and wrote, “Lighting up a candle can pose as a fire hazard. If you would like, we can buy LED candles.”

              Definitely no fireworks.

              “What did you even do?” Arthur yelled. “This isn’t even any of my suggestions!”

              Alfred scratched his head, “Actually dude, I wrote down all of your suggestions using blue ink, and I wrote all of my suggestions using red ink. Look at the papers yourself.”

              Frowning, Arthur glanced back at the papers and confirmed the bitter truth. Alfred had indeed written word to word what Arthur had written, but the boy also had the gall to suggest his own things!

              “Who asked you for your opinion anyway?” Arthur seethed as he leaned over to print another copy. It would do him no good. If Elizabeta and Francis see Alfred’s suggestions, they would go overboard in their ideas.

              “Dude, all your suggestions are buzzkill. LED candles? Y’all are supposed to flip a switch on the bottom of the candle? That’s dumb. The reason why candles are so fun is because you get to see the flame flicker—,”

              “I’ll buy flickering LED candles,” Arthur retorted while crossing his arms.

              “Then you get to blow them out!”

              “You can pretend to blow on the candle while you turn the LED candle off,” Arthur mentioned with a scoff.

              Alfred frowned, “You can’t see the hot wax dripping on an LED candle can you?”

              Arthur frowned as he thought about the LED candles. He couldn’t quite remember any wax LED candles. Most of the candles he knew were made of plastic and—wait a minute…

              “Who as you anyway,” Arthur growled in frustration. “You’re not even a senior! Next year, you convince your President to buy wax candles or fireworks.”

              Arthur stuffed the dry papers in his backpack. Picking up the stained papers, he wondered how late he would sleep tonight.

              “Wait!” Arthur was almost out the door when Alfred called for him. Turning around slowly, Arthur raised his brow. “You’re going to coach me, right?”

              Rolling his eyes, Arthur slammed the door.

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

              Opening his locker, Arthur searched for his lunch. Since he barely had anytime this morning, he threw his lunch in his locker and ran off to his first class. As he moved some of his books, he frowned. Where was his unicorn bag?

              “Okay Arthur, I decided just what you need.”

              The obnoxious American was back yet again.

              With a sigh, Arthur removed his head from his locker, “What are you doing here?”

              “So, since I won’t be able to read that piece of work, I’ve decided to instead make you lunch every day until the end of the year,” Alfred grinned as he handed a paper bag with Arthur’s name scribbled across the top.

              “I kind of pitied you the other day when I saw you eating those rocks, so I thought making you this would be more than enough,” Alfred pushed the bag closer to Arthur.

              Rocks? Francis may claim Arthur has an unoriginal and boring palette, but even he didn’t fancy himself eating rocks. Just what could Alfred be—understood. Arthur’s hand clenched as he stood up.

              “They are _scones_ , not rocks,” Arthur pushed the bag away. “Take your food and leave, I don’t need it.”

              Alfred paused before he pushed the bag back to Arthur, “Dude, eating that stuff is dangerous. They aren’t scones. They’re cancer in the making. You are aware that burnt food causes cancer, right?” Alfred removed the burger that he packed from the bag. “A hamburger though is super healthy.”

              Arthur stared at the burger. It looked fairly similar to the shit he received from fast food restaurants, with everything being messily thrown together—with a touch of fat and diabetes, of course. Leaning closer, Arthur frowned, “How is that any healthier than the scones I eat?”

              “Great question, this represents everything from the food pyramid! The bread is a source of grains, this slice of cheese is a source of dairy, the tomatoes, onion, and lettuce is a source of vegetables. The patty is great protein, and the grease I used to cook the meat is a good source of fats. See, everything in the food pyramid is covered,” Alfred’s face was one of pure joy.

              “Well actually _mon ami_ , you don’t have any fruit. But you are absolutely right! Arthur should stop eating those rocks, and he should start eating the food big brother makes him instead,” Francis slid an arm across Arthur’s shoulder and pulled him close. “You should listen to your friend, _mon petit lapin_.”

              Turning to Alfred, Francis held out his hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met. _Enchanté_ , _je m’appelle Francis, et toi?_ ”

              Alfred had a blank expression on his face before he laughed slowly, “Ah, you told me your name. Mine’s Alfred.”

              Arthur pushed Francis off of him. Alfred and Francis seemed to be getting cozy enough. They wouldn’t need him around to be the third wheel. “While both of you fraternize with each other, I will be heading to the student council room to do something more productive.” Turning back to his locker, Arthur moved his football and grinned when he saw his bag.

              As he started to leave, Francis held onto to Arthur’s shoulder, “Wait Arthur, before I forget, the answers to your questions are Stonehenge, penguins, and five.” Francis frowned as he asked, “Why go to the council room, though? Everyone’s in the cafeteria.”

              Arthur turned around to glare at Alfred, “Because of someone’s mishap, I have some extra work. After I’m done though, we can talk about next week’s practice.”

              Turning back to Francis, he quickly explained to him the day’s agenda, and he even listed the students who had to absolutely attend the meeting. Francis was an insufferable frog, but he could be an effective leader when he wasn’t busy arguing.

              As Francis nodded his head, Arthur turned—getting ready to leave and obtain the peace he desperately craved for. But Alfred walked up to him and pushed the paper bag to his chest, “You forgot your positively healthy lunch.”

              Arthur pushed it away, “No thank you. You can’t pay me to eat that rubbish.” Before he left though, he decided that he needed to be perfectly clear. Alfred’s brain probably didn’t comprehend his words. “Alfred?” Alfred glanced at him quickly. The small pout on his face remained. “I don’t think you understood. Unless you read _Eros_ , I won’t train you. Just to be clear, if you bother me again, you’ll have to read much more than just _Eros_.”

              Alfred frowned, “You’re no fair.”

              With a snort, Arthur rolled his eyes, “Life’s not fair, tell me something new.”

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

              The bakery Arthur worked at was usually empty during the weekends. Most students preferred to go off campus to eat, so whoever worked the weekend shifts had an easier shift. After stocking all of the pastries and refilling all of the supplies, Arthur stretched and sighed as he reached for his phone to learn more about the latest school drama.

              As he was scrolling through his classmates’ stories, the bell to the bakery suddenly rang. Standing up quickly and pocketing his phone away, he put on a smile, “Welcome to Agape! How may I—Alfred?”

              Alfred gave him a nervous smile as he gave Arthur a small wave, “Hey,” he whispered softly. His blue eyes remained on Arthur for a second, before a blush graced Alfred’s cheeks. He looked away to the pastries that were behind Arthur.

              “Are you here to tell me what you’d rather do instead of reading _Eros_?” he asked with a flat voice.

              “No,” Alfred shook his head slowly. “Could I have a medium iced tea? And maybe five or ten minutes of your time?”

              Arthur glanced around the bakery. There were two students who were busily typing away on their laptops, but they didn’t seem like they needed anything anytime soon. Considering the time, Arthur was sure no one would be coming, as well.

              “Do you want to talk here, or at a table?”

              “Table is preferable, please,” Alfred mentioned softly.

              Arthur went to the mini fridge and grabbed the container with the regular iced tea. Poking his head up, he frowned, “You want ice with this right?”

              “It’s why I asked for iced tea,” Alfred snorted.

              “Git,” Arthur muttered. He put half a scoop of ice in before pouring the iced tea. Picking out a straw, he handed the drink to Alfred while taking the cash.

              “Alright, here’s your change,” Arthur handed him and coins before taking off his apron. Jumping over the counter, Arthur motioned for them to head over to a small booth which had the best view.

              Slipping into the booth, he stared expectantly at Alfred, “So, you wanted to talk?”

              Alfred nodded his head. He took a sip of his drink before he hunched slightly, “My grandmother is going to hate me.”

              “Did you murder someone?” Arthur raised his brow.

              “She would kill me if I did that,” Alfred sighed melodramatically as he stared out the window. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand as he closed his eyes, “I can already taste the soap. Thank god I’m not in America right now.”

              “Stop your rubbish and get to the point, you only have five minutes left.”

              “I read it.”

              “Read what?”

              Scratching the back of his head, Alfred adjusted his glasses before meekly saying, “ _Eros_. Didn’t know it was a series, so I only had time to read the first book.”

              “I see, tell me more about it,” Arthur turned to stare out the window. Since the bakery was located at the heart of campus, he saw the school buildings he was most familiar with. But what he enjoyed most was the large tree at the center which swayed with the breeze.

              “I thought you read it though.”

              “I did, but I want to verify that you read it as well.”

              Adjusting his glasses once more, Alfred coughed, “Alright. I’ll keep it PG though since we’re in public. It’s about a group of students who are attending this posh preparatory school. The book doesn’t really focus on any one character in particular, but the first book was mainly about a Spanish boy falling in love with an angry Italian. The Spanish boy received help from his friends, and by the end of the book we see a lot of action,” Alfred played with his thumbs. “So yeah…I read it.”

              Arthur’s lips curved upward into a smile. With a small laugh Arthur leaned forward, “So, what’s your favorite pose?”

              He knew he didn’t have to ask. Since Alfred was a good boy, he wouldn’t prefer any of the more exotic poses. Knowing Alfred, he would probably like the classic missionary style. Still, it didn’t hurt to ask.

              “Well,” the pink came back on his cheeks as his blue eyes averted, “I do like the missionary position, but I would wouldn’t mind doing the wheelbarrow either.”

              Wheelbarrow?

              Alfred, you have graduated.

              Throwing his head back in laughter, Arthur patted Alfred’s shoulder as he prepared to get back to his shift, “Meet me at 6 am on the field tomorrow, we’ll start practice.”

              When he went behind the counter, Alfred walked up to him and complimented, “You have a nice laugh. It sounds…pleasant and warming.”

              Shaking his head, Arthur smirked, “Stop trying to butter me up. I’ll be brutal at tomorrow’s practice.”

              “That’s good,” Alfred held his hand out and Arthur stared at it. After a moment, Alfred coughed and took a deep breath, “Friends?”

              Arthur slapped Alfred’s hand away, “I’m form friendships with just anyone.” Slipping his apron on again, he turned to Alfred, “Surprise me on the playing field, and I think about friendship with you.”

              Alfred smiled softly as he nodded his head, “I will.”

              “Well I look forward to it,” Arthur grinned back at him.

              This year’s football season may not be so bland after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week's chapter might be a bit late since I am going away this weekend. Please let me know if there's anything I need to fix though, whether it is something technical or grammatical. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

              Sitting on the ground, Arthur reached for his toes and remained in that position for twenty seconds before he leaning back and taking a deep breath. Repeating the same stretch four more times, Arthur changed the stretch to target his triceps. Now that the blood was flowing through his body, he was much more alert than before.

              Waking up this morning was bloody difficult. So used to sleeping in, he threw his phone across the room once he heard his alarm. After hearing the obnoxious alarm clock ringtone for about a minute, he debated on whether or not it was necessary to train Alfred.

              Alfred was on the opposing team.

              He was bloody awful at the sport, and no amount of training could ever make him a superstar.

              But a promise is a promise.

              Not to mention, he needed to schedule in some practice now that the first game of the season was in a little under three weeks. Francis had already blasted everyone’s inbox with emails about the practice schedule.

              Luckily though, instead of playing against Ludwig’s team, they were playing against Ivan and his little minions. Now that Gilbert, one of best players on the team, graduated last year, there really was nothing to worry over. Other than Ivan, everyone else played like brainless cronies.

              Hearing a soft thud, Arthur turned around and frowned when he saw Alfred munching on an artery clogging burger with his right hand. In his left hand was a monstrous sized cup, probably filled with something equally as artery clogging.

              First, he would have to change Alfred’s diet.

              Scones, fruit, and _hot_ tea would be a great start.

              Alfred grinned at him and slurped from his cup and dropped his large bag on the ground. Instead of wearing his team’s uniform, he decided to wear black shorts and an old blue tee that read, “God Bless America.” Instead of sporting his thin wired glasses, he decided to wear contacts.

              Alfred hollered out, “Glad you could make it, Artie!” Kicking off his trainers, he reached into the bag and pulled out his black, worn out cleats.

              The git must have brought his American football cleats since those looked _too_ worn out for someone who had just begun playing football.

              “Oi Yankee,” Alfred glanced up at him with wide eyes. Arthur’s eyes narrowed, “Bring your football cleats next time we practice.”

              He raised his brow in confusion as he glanced down at his cleats, “What do you mean? I brought my so—oh!” his confusion disappeared and instead his cheeks grew slightly warm, “Oops?” he shrugged and looked away. Taking a breath, he turned to Arthur, “Won’t happen again Captain!”

              With a snort, Arthur stood up and began to jog in place, “Such a strange creature you are. Anyway, do try to come on time tomorrow.”

              “Yes sir!” he grinned, showing off his dimple on his right cheek.

              Slightly taken aback by the enthusiasm, Arthur stopped. He stared at Alfred’s face for some time. Now that there were no glasses, Arthur was able to get lost into Alfred’s wide, sky blue eyes. Alfred had such an innocent country boy look to him. He wondered how Alfred would look like as a cowboy.

              As his mouth dried up, he was taken aback when Alfred gave him a wink, “Like what you see, Artie?”

              With a low growl, he jogged past Alfred, “It’s Arthur, and come on. Five laps around the field before I teach you how to defend yourself against Vash and Ivan.”

              “No dribbling?” Alfred ran right next to him, matching Arthur’s pace.

              “We would have started with foot drills if you came on time.”

              “Sorry sir, there was just a little distraction this morning.”

              As they ran around the field, Arthur nodded his head and arched his brow, “Oh really? What type of distraction?”

              “A French dude—“ Alfred stopped in midsentence with a frown.

              “Say no more,” Arthur grunted. “The French are known to distract. What did this Frenchman do to you?”

              “Uh,” he scratched the side of his head as his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, “told me how I should seduce people.”

              Arthur stopped jogging and immediately searched around the field. He wondered why this morning was awfully quiet. Usually the Frenchie would be up making breakfast while mocking him, but today, there was no baguette nor a pesky frog in sight.

              “Is that Frenchie by any chance Francis Bonnefoy?” he spat the name out.

              “Francis?”

              “You know. The blond git who has green skin and warts. He makes his presence known by groping you,” Arthur sighed as he walked back to the stands. Instead of gossiping about the frog, they would make much better use of the time if they practiced some drills.

              “Well, the guy I talked to had blond hair and porcelain skin. And he carried around a rose with him,” Alfred caught the ball that Arthur threw at him.

              With a small snort, Arthur rolled his eyes, “Porcelain skin? Your eyesight must be weak. Try wearing glasses, and the green skin will become much more apparent.”

              Arthur surveyed the field momentarily before glancing at his wrist. They had a decent thirty minutes of practice left. It was just enough time to warn Alfred of two important players. Taking a deep breath, he slowly worded, “Alright, I checked the schedule. In two and a half weeks, you will be playing against the Business school. Vash Zwingli is the player you will have to watch out for on the team. He’s a bloody terrific defender, and if you aren’t paying attention to the ball, he’ll steal it from you within seconds.”

              “So what do you think I should do?”

              “Learn to keep the ball close to you when you dribble the ball.” Alfred nodded his head as he dribbled the ball using small kicks. Arthur nodded his head and muttered, “Softer if you can, but that’s a good start.” Glancing up at Alfred, he continued, “Also keep your eye trained on the ball. The first second your eyes leave the ball, Vash cashes in on the opportunity and steals it away from you. Now run and dribble, and I’ll try to steal the ball from you in typical Vash style.”

              Alfred nodded his head with a grin as he took off with the ball. Now that he was running, his dribbling became slightly more focused. He was clearly practicing. But even with the practice, he showed a clear right-side weakness. Every time his left foot kicked the ball, it went slightly further than what should be comfortable. If he was able to spot it, Vash would as well.

              With a sigh, he ran after Alfred. Now that he knew about the right-side weakness, it was best to jockey towards him at the right. As he jockeyed, Alfred was forced to move diagonally, and Arthur smirked, “You are playing well, Alfred.” He leaned in closer getting ready to stab at the ball, “But not well enough!” using his left leg, he stole the ball and gave Alfred a cheeky grin.

              Alfred grumbled, “I thought I was doing well.”

              “You were, don’t misunderstand me. But you made a few mistakes that cost you the ball. Next time, try to move a bit faster. Vash is manipulative and slow. It’s why he prefers jockeying. The faster you move on the field, the less likely Vash will be able to steal the ball. It’s how Feli is able to escape Vash seven out of ten times.”

              Arthur moved closer and used his toes to tap on Alfred’s left leg, “Because your left kicks are not as sharp as your right kicks, you show a clear right-side weakness.” Tapping on his head gently, Arthur smirked, “And it helps to use your brain in the playing field as well. Be a bit more spontaneous. Make turns.”

              Alfred’s lips curled into a pout, “I see. I was terrible then.”

              “No, you actually played really well,” Arthur smiled softly. As he thought back to how they were playing a few minutes ago, he frowned and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Now that I think about it. I actually had to put in a bit more effort to steal the ball from you compared to Feli, and Feli has been playing for a few years.”

              “Ha, ha,” Alfred laughed uneasily. “Beginner’s luck?”

              “Well, let’s hope you have beginner’s luck when playing with Ivan,” Arthur blanched slightly. “Just run with the ball,” he muttered.

              Back in his freshman year, he was actually a striker. His first game was against Ivan’s team, and after having Ivan cozy up to him, Arthur knew he was better off being a goalie. He didn’t fancy having someone come up to you and whisper, “Become one with Mother Russia.”

              Having Francis grope him was much easier to handle. He could bloody punch the frog. But having Ivan’s chest pressing against his back, Arthur was powerless. Being a goalie, far, far, far away with him was the best scenario. It was also one of the reasons his good friend Kiku, changed positions.

              As Arthur matched up to Alfred’s running speed, he came incredibly close to the American. If he leaned any closer, his chest would be pressing on Alfred’s back. This closeness was enough for Alfred to start running faster, but Arthur gave a tough competition.

              Honestly, Alfred’s blushes rivalled the reddest of tomatoes. Perhaps if Antonio wasn’t so occupied with Lovino, he might have shown interest in Alfred.

              Alfred made a sharp turn to the right, and Arthur copied the move as well. It was disastrous for Alfred since he tripped over the ball and landed sharply on the ground, unceremoniously. With a groan, he rubbed his head and cried out, “Dude, what was that for? Are you trying to molest me or something?”

              “As if I would want to molest you,” Arthur snorted. “No, that’s how Ivan plays in the field. He likes to make players flustered, and it worked in the initial days since no one expected him to play like that. But most of the older players have adapted ways to play against him. Let’s have another round, if you fail once again,” his lips curled upwards in a smirk, “I’ll think if I should give you tips or not.”

              The blush on Alfred’s cheeks began already as he started to run. Though now, it seemed as though Alfred lost all composure. Before he could get even half a foot away, Alfred dropped to the ground and held the ball in his hands protectively.

              “You can’t exactly hold the ball, Alfred,” Arthur mentioned dryly.

              “I don’t like the way Ivan plays.”

              With a roll of his eyes, Arthur dropped to the ground and sat next to Alfred, “Again, no one likes the way Ivan plays.” Patting Alfred’s shoulder, he suggested, “It helps to think about something else while playing against him. Feli thinks about pasta, Ludwig, I’m sure, thinks about Feli, and Francis thinks about…many things.”

              “Easy for you to say. You probably have never played against Ivan.”

              With a slow, nervous chuckle, Arthur admitted, “I kind of did.” When Alfred looked over at him with interest, Arthur looked away. In his football career, he was most embarrassed about this. Luckily, because he was such an extraordinary goal keeper, most people forgot about his first match with Ivan. “I kindly requested Feli if he could switch places with me.”

              Alfred started to laugh, “So if I don’t beg to switch places with a defender,” Arthur protested slightly with his word choice, “I will officially be better than you. I’ll do it!”

              He jumped up excitedly, “Let’s have another round then! I won’t disappoint this time around.”

              “I wish, however, it’s almost time for school to begin,” Arthur stood up and reached for the ball. “I don’t know about you, but I’m positively famished.”

              They had a quick shower and changed into their school uniforms. As they walked over to Agape, Alfred turned to Arthur and slyly asked, “So, I learned about Vash and Ivan…how do I protect myself against Francis?”

              Arthur chuckled airily as he held the door open for Alfred, “How adorable. As if I would tell you my team’s weaknesses. You are aware that we are competitors out on the field, right?”

              Alfred shrugged, “Well, I tried.”

              As they walked up to the counter, they were greeted by a bright and cheery Spaniard, “Welcome to Agape! What would you both like to have today?”

              “An iced tea with two extra packets of sugar,” Alfred mentioned as he continued to roll his eyes over the menu. His brows knit together and his cheeks grew slightly puffier, “Maybe add a chocolate croissant and two glazed donuts with that order.”

              “Cancel it, and make his iced tea without the extra sugar,” Arthur sharply mentioned. “Breakfast tea and two protein bars should suffice.” When he noticed the glum look on Alfred’s face, he sighed, “And give him a fruit bowl or something.”

              “With chocolate?” Alfred asked happily.

              “No.”

              Antonio glanced between them with a knowing grin. As he accepted their money, he sighed happily, “When I woke up this morning, I thought it would be the same old. But you could not believe what I saw this morning! Arthur groping Alfred?!? As Francis would put it, you naughty boy!”

              Alfred started to choke on his own spit, while Arthur patted his back slowly. Arthur snapped his head in Antonio’s direction, “Bloody hell? I was _teaching_ him how to defend against _Ivan_!”

              “Didn’t look like much teaching at that angle,” Antonio grinned. “Why, it kind of looked like the position in—”

              “You finish that thought Carriedo, and you’re dead,” Arthur grated out.

              Antonio snickered, “Ah I’m having so much fun! I really hope Elizabeta has seen you two practicing this morning! Maybe I’ll even tell her to join you guys! It would be wonderful to read about you two!”

              Kiku walked out with the tray that included their order. Smiling gently, he bowed at both boys. Alfred took his order gingerly, and while Arthur snatched his order, his more normal friend quietly mentioned, “I don’t think you have to worry Arthur-san. Elizabeta-san mentioned she was going to be in the student council room this morning.”

              Arthur nodded his head appreciatively, “Thank you Kiku. You’re a better friend than,” snapping his head over to Antonio, Arthur gave him a withering glare, “this pathetic excuse for a human being.” Antonio stuck his tongue out.

              As Arthur walked out, he stuffed the protein bars into his pocket and took a sip of his scorching tea. Alfred ran up to him with a frown, “Why don’t we sit inside and eat? It’s chilly outside.”

              Arthur placed his cup of tea on Alfred’s cheek, and Alfred leaned in towards it comfortably. He had a silly grin on his face, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile back. Removing the cup from Alfred’s cheek, he ignored Alfred’s protests, “This is why you enjoy a nice cup of _hot_ tea, instead of the cold shit you drink.”

              “I’ll keep that in mind, dude,” Alfred grabbed onto Arthur’s drink and held it close to his cheek while drinking his cold tea, “But let’s stay like this for a little bit longer?”

              As they passed a few buildings, Arthur could’ve sworn he saw flowy brunette hair. Already knowing about the disaster that could come, he pulled Alfred behind a tree and glanced back to see if Elizabeta was around. When he saw the brunette teen walk away in the other direction, he let out a sigh of relief and turned back to glance at Alfred.

              Alfred gazed up at him with his curious sky blue eyes. Blue eyes were nothing really special. His green eyes were much more rare to find in the world. But for some odd reason, Alfred’s eyes seemed special. They gave him a look of innocence and purity.

              He needed to crush these emotions as fast as possible. Relationships were not something he intended to have, especially with Elizabeta around. If only he met Alfred a couple of years later…

              “Where are your glasses,” he muttered softly.

              Alfred cocked his head to the side, and his wheat blond bangs partially covered his eyes.

              This was good.

              “They broke. Why?”

              “You look better with your glasses on,” he lied. At least with his glasses on, Arthur didn’t have to come face-to-face with Alfred’s eyes.

              “Oh,” Alfred’s eyes glanced down at the ground. “Do you like—”

              He never had a chance to hear the end of that sentence because the bell chose to ring at that exact moment. They both glanced up for a minute, and Arthur took a step back, “See you later, Jones.”

              Alfred nodded his head slowly, “See you later, then.”

              Arthur couldn’t help but wonder if Alfred looked a little sad. As he walked away, he wondered why Alfred came to this school. It was an elite school which was invitation only. Although he had no business, he wondered why Alfred crossed the ocean to come here.

              Being president, he could easily search through the student records even if it was abusing his powers.

              He turned around once more and saw Alfred’s back.

              He watched Alfred for nearly two weeks, taught Alfred how to play football for the last hour, and heard about Alfred every now and then from the other students.

              Other than knowing Alfred’s basic characteristics, there wasn’t much else he knew. If he didn’t have a gut feeling that _something_ was wrong, he would’ve just passed it off as interest for the new kid.

              There was something so much more to Alfred, and he would find out exactly what it is tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about the late chapter! Those past two weeks was busy. Hope you liked it. Next chapter should be on time. And thank you so much for the kudos and comments.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days went without a hitch.

After Antonio teased him about how scandalous Ivan's playing style looked like, Arthur chose to discontinue showing how to defend against Ivan. Ludwig can take care of that, while he focused more on teaching Alfred jockeying, dribbling, and shooting goals.

In his spare time, though, he started to help out in the school's main office.

Getting the keys to the student record room was highly improbable, even for someone like him. Though, he reasoned that he could get access to the keys if he helped the school's secretary.

It was fairly easy to get on her good side.

When she wasn't looking, he knocked over the stack of papers she organized, and then when she turned around to see the mess, he quickly rushed over and offered to help, which she appreciated greatly. As they picked the papers up, he asked what else he could do to help her out, with his charming smile.

And she fell for it.

As each day passed, he was getting closer and closer to getting those damn keys. Until then, he would just play nice.

Though the highlight of his week was when he obtained the latest volume of  _Eros_. It had been almost two months since the last volume was published, so he wasted no time at all. Kiku had been kind enough to give it to him during a midafternoon break.

As Kiku handed it to him, he whispered, "Arthur-san, Eliza-chan mentioned you would run up to her after completing the book," when Kiku saw Arthur's flummoxed look, Kiku shrugged, "She just wanted me to tell you. Even I haven't read it yet. She told me you have access to the first copy."

First copy?

His day only went better. Francis, Antonio, and the others wouldn't even know!

Almost three years ago, Elizabeta started the series as a gag for Antonio. The Spaniard would talk nonstop about Lovino, the wonderful Italian a year younger than them. It was all Antonio would talk about, so Elizabeta made a small strip hoping Antonio would be too embarrassed to speak.

But the opposite happened.

He loved it and asked for a whole novel.

So, Miguel, the Spanaird, and Alfonso, the Italian, were born.

And to spice things up, additional characters were also added. Each additional character represented their real-life counterpart, and the series became an exaggeration of sort. There was some truth to the volumes, and there was also some of Elizabeta's wild imagination.

Along with Antonio and Lovino, other featured couples include the famous love triangle, Elizabeta, Roderich, and Gilbert, the childhood love couple, Ludwig and Feliciano, the quiet couple, Heracles and Kiku, and the mysterious couple, Ivan and Yao. The series also speaks about Francis's many relations, but that is a story for another day.

As he flipped through the pages of the book, he had to give it to Elizabeta. She was getting more and more creative, living up to her promise about finishing the series with a bang before she graduated.

As he flipped the page one more, he couldn't help but smile when he saw Ignatius.  _His_  character. The British gentleman who was prim, proper, and absolutely  _perfect_.

Because Elizabeta's creation was not half as bad, he agreed to allocate some of his class's money to her so she could print the books and let everyone read them. The only condition he had for her, though, was that she not ruin perfect Ignatius.

No relationships, no drama.

And she lived up to her promise. Whereas she used her fangirl fantasies on all the other couples, she toned her emotions down as she made Ignatius's character.

Even when he had some questionable nights with Francis—while drunk, he doesn't really swing in the frog's direction sober—she never wrote about it.

His eyes scanned the page, and stopped at the bottom, reading the words.

_Introducing Frankie Washington! He is a 16-year-old from Arkansas. There's a lot to learn about Frankie, but don't worry, I'll cover them all as we continue! Though you might be wondering, what is a new character doing? There are only two more books before the series ends! Well, good question. He's an important character because he is—_

Arthur flipped the page lazily.

_Ignatius's love interest._

He blinked as he sat straighter in his seat. This has to be a joke.

Love interest.

He blinked his eyes as he continued to glare at the page. Laughing with slight desperation, he pinched his arm and turned to the page.

_Ignatius's love interest._

Damn. Those blasphemous words were still written on the page.

Throwing the graphic novel in his bag, he marched over to where the newspaper club usually meets. As well as making  _Eros_ , Elizabeta wrote a romance column in the school newspaper and gave relationship advice to anyone who needed it.

As he opened the door, he heard Elizabeta's smug voice, "Told you he would be here, Kiku."

"You're brilliant, Eliza-chan," Kiku praised.

Elizabeta turned to Arthur and cracked a grin, "So perfect Arthur, have you read the most recent volume?"

Slamming the door behind him, he nodded once, "Indeed, I have."

"Surprised, Arthur?"

She was taunting him now. Typical Elizabeta. He was only ever watching Elizabeta taunt others, now that he was on the other end, he understood the others' pain.

_Do not be livid, Arthur. This is Elizabeta. The crazy girl who is capable of doing anything._

Taking another breath, he began to think about how he was a gentleman.  _Gentlemen do not kill others._ "I thought we had an agreement, Elizabeta. You get the money as long as Ignatius is single."

Elizabeta briefly glanced at Kiku for a second. They communicated some sort of message before Kiku turned to Arthur, "I hope you do not burst with unhappiness after I say these words, Arthur-san, but," Kiku cleared his throat, "everyone in this school wants you to get laid, Arthur-san."

His eyes widened in mortification. As far as he knew, everyone in this school worshipped the ground he walked on…they did not have such dirty thought!

Elizabeta grinned, "And I love my readers, so I can only acquiesce to their demands."

Shaking his head, his hands formed two fists, "And who the hell is demanding that I get laid?" Elizabeta grinned as she opened her mouth, but Arthur quickly interjected, "And no, it cannot be you, the frog, the tomato, or anyone else featured in those bloody books you write."

Kiku blinked and frowned, "Arthur-san, you must be aware that even our principal wants to see you get laid."

He could feel the blush run up to his cheeks. Damn principal. Feliciano and Lovino's grandfather should have stayed in Italy and painted or something.

Crossing his arms, he huffed, "Oh yeah? Well I'll cut the funding.  _No_  one will be able to read the next ridiculous volume."

Elizabeta gave up a dramatic and exaggerated sigh as Kiku's eyes widened once more, "You predicted this as well, Eliza-chan."

"Predicted what?"

He was slightly scared of what was going to come.

Turning her laptop, she pointed to the screen as Arthur leaned down to get a closer look. His eyes widened considerably, "You made a GoFundMe page?" as he scanned the goal line, his eyes widened even more, if possible, "And you completed your goal in 3 hours? Bloody hell…"

As his eyes scanned the list of donors, he began to grumble, "The stupid frog was reluctant to loan me 5 €, but he donated 100 € for you?!"

* * *

**_Francis Bonnefoy_** _donated 100_ €

3 hours ago

I want to see every delicious angle of Ignatius. Everyone, shall we have a drinking game? Every time Frankie blushes, we take a shot

* * *

**_Antonio Carriedo_ ** _donated 150 €_

2 hours ago

I'll throw in another 50 € if you give me a wedding scene with Iggy and Frankie where Iggy wears the wedding dress, and hell yeah for the drinking game!

* * *

**_Gilbert Beilschmidt_ ** _donated 50 €_

2 hours ago

The awesome me wants to see if Arthur's six-string tattoo really exists. Don't know what the drinking game is for, but I'm in ;D

* * *

As his eyes rolled down the page, his mouth curled in disgust, "I thought you said I was the first one to read this."

Elizabeta shrugged with a grin, "I might've let it slip to a couple of people. Francis and Antonio in the morning, Kiku just fifteen minutes ago."

Arthur rolled his eyes in anger, while Elizabeta's grin deepened further, "But Arthur? You're going to have an aneurism if you read the most  _recent_  donation."

He frowned as he leaned over and scrolled down the page. His eyes widened and he gasped in surprise as he read the most recent donations.

* * *

**_Kiku Honda_ ** _donated 75 €_

10 minutes ago

The drinking game is suicide

* * *

**_Alfred F. Jones_ ** _donated 50 €_

5 minutes ago

Don't really know why this GoFundMe page is so hot, but the drinking game sounds fun though :D And no way! Arthur has a six-string tattoo?!

* * *

As Arthur turned to Elizabeta, Elizabeta shook her head, "Poor Arthur. You have the whole school against you. Everyone wants to see you laid, even innocent little Alfred." She pulled her laptop closer to her, "I wasn't planning on drawing any lewd scenes, but if Alfie really wants to see that six-string, I may have to spice things up."

Kiku even cracked a smile, "May I suggest a scene where Alfred manages to strip Arthur on the football field? They have been avidly practicing together there,  _alone_."

"Kiku!" he snapped, incredulous that the quiet Japanese boy could even think that.

Elizabeta clapped her hands excitedly, "Football field sounds exciting! Though, Arthur loves his student council—,"

"Don't even utter another word," he seethed.

"So, sex on the sacred student council desk seems better," Elizabeta winked at him. "Don't worry, I'll have Alfred strip you slowly."

"Excuse me, but why is the reoccurring theme  _me_  being stripped?" he snapped.

Elizabeta and Kiku stared at each other before Elizabeta rolled her eyes, "Because you're too much of a gentleman to take the first step."

Kiku frowned, "Well actually Eliza-chan, I could see Arthur-san making the first step." Arthur smiled and nodded as he began to thank Kiku, but Kiku added, "He would probably strip in front of Alfred, slowly and sensually. Be a gentleman so Alfred doesn't have to do the hard work. Right Arthur-san?"

Elizabeta was cackling, while Arthur blinked.

"I despise both of you," Arthur muttered under his breath.

Shaking his head slowly, he crossed his arms, "You write your relationships based on real life, right?"

Elizabeta nodded her head slowly, "Yeah…I use what I see as inspiration."

Slapping his hands on the table, he leaned forward, "Well why don't you watch us during our practice session. You'll see that our relationship is perfectly  _platonic_."

"And what if I don't see anything platonic?" Elizabeta raised her eyebrow as her warm brown eyes sparkled in amusement. "Because you know how I can blow  _anything_  out of proportion, right?"

"Then write whatever you wish."  _As if I would let you publish your work._

Elizabeta nodded her head, "Deal."

* * *

Since the big game was  _tomorrow_ , Alfred asked him if they could schedule a quick practice, and Arthur was much too happy to oblige. After meeting Elizabeta, he shot a quick text to Antonio and Francis, asking them to attend the practice session as well. So far, Antonio made it and was doing the warm up exercises with them.

"It's such a perfect day, today isn't?" Antonio mentioned with a grin.

"I don't know, dude, I'm sweating buckets here," Alfred's skin was flushed. Since the moment practice started, actually, Alfred seemed a bit flushed, as if he was running a small fever.

"Do you want to take off your shirt?" Antonio asked with a grin. "It's a perfect day after all! And who knows? You might get a tan," he shot a look towards Arthur, "Unlike Arturo who just burns in the sun."

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as he saw Alfred taking his shirt off tantalizing slow as if Alfred was purposely mocking him. As each centimeter of his flesh became visible, he noticed, with appreciation, the valleys and ridges that were carved into Alfred's body. Once Alfred tossed the shirt, he turned to Arthur and offered him a dazzling smile as he adjusted his glasses.

"You're hot, Alfred?" Arthur mumbled while blinking.

A warm blush spread across Alfred's cheeks, "T-thanks, you're not too bad looking yourself, actually."

That was enough to snap him out of his stupor. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat, "You misinterpreted what I said, Alfred. I asked you if you were hot. You know the temperature outside? A synonym for hot is extremely warm?"

Antonio was snickering behind him as Alfred nodded his head unsurely.

"Really, that's what I intended to say, you just misinterpreted," he continued to ramble.

Thankfully it was just Antonio here to listen to him and not Eliza—

"This is just rich!" Elizabeta's voice popped up with glee. "Arthur calling Alfred hot?"

Arthur sharply turned to Elizabeta, "I did not mean that!"

Elizabeta nodded her head slowly, "Sure, doesn't explain the drool though."

Drool? Arthur quickly touched his mouth and frowned when he didn't feel any wetness. Winking at him, Elizabeta gleefully announced, "I'm going to have so much material to write!"

Holding his face, he shook his head, completely embarrassed.

This was going to be a long practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not much Arthur and Alfred in this chapter :(  
> But next chapter will be focused on them more since they will be going on a date while Elizabeta watches them and takes notes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this is so late. I had a little trouble writing this chapter, but hopefully you'll like it and it isn't too awful. Next time, I'll hopefully get the chapter out by Wednesday morning instead of so late into the night.

As Elizabeta sat down eagerly, Arthur turned to Alfred and Antonio with a sour expression. Practice was already not going in the direction he had intended for it to go. He was hoping that more people would distract Elizabeta from her fangirl fantasies, but Antonio's constant snickers at his misery was clearly not helping him.

"Antonio, go left and jockey," Arthur barked out another order as he began to run after Alfred.

In the days that they have practiced, Alfred improved tremendously. Honestly, he had difficulties believing that Alfred was a beginner. As Arthur locked his eyes with Alfred, he gave a single nod, and Alfred took a sharp right causing Antonio to stumble a bit.

Kicking the ball to Arthur, Arthur nodded his head and turned to Antonio, "I think you need a bit more practicing." Snorting, he rolled his eyes, "You were tricked by a novice."

Antonio frowned as he turned to Alfred, "Yeah  _novice_ ," he drawled. "Must be beginner's luck, right, Alfred?"

Alfred blinked for a minute before nodding his head, "Yeah must be a touch of beginner's luck." Looking away, he blushed and grinned, "Though, Arthur's a really good teacher." Turning to Arthur, he grinned, "I think I'll do fantastic tomorrow!"

Arthur nodded his head with slight pride, "Of course, you winning is all we want."

Antonio came around and threw an arm around Alfred, "Do you know what pose you'll do tomorrow after winning?"

"Pose?"

Sighing, Elizabeta walked down to the field and crossed her arms, "Our dear Arthur must not have told you." Glancing at Antonio and Arthur briefly, she continued, "After every game, the winning team shows off a pose. We call them football poses, and someone from the newspaper club takes a picture. You can either do it alone or you can make it a team effort. But, everyone poses, it's a must at this school."

"What type of poses are you guys talking about?" Alfred mentioned as he reached for his water bottle.

Elizabeta grinned, "Well, my favorite pose was actually the wedding imitation pose you guys did last year."

Antonio laughed, "Oh yeah, Gil gave us the idea actually!" turning to Alfred, he explained, "Last year, when we won the trophy, we made Francis hold the cup like he was showing off a wedding ring while the rest of us looked at him in shock," he turned to Arthur and punched Arthur's arm lightly, "Arthur though, was rolling his eyes in the background."

"What about the year before that?" Alfred asked with a grin.

"They pretended to be cops," Elizabeta nodded and frowned, "And the year before that, they made a pyramid. But, don't forget to smile wide when you give your pose," she gave him a comforting smile.

Turning to Arthur, she asked, "So, since I really have nothing better to do, do you want to go out for dinner to discuss who will be decorating at the venue on the day of the ball?" she turned to Antonio and Alfred, "You two are welcome to tag along for dinner as well."

Alfred grinned, "Really? Yeah sure!" while Antonio shook his head, "Sorry, I have a date with Lovino so he won't be nervous for the game tomorrow."

"Well, if you tell me what type of food you two want, I can look something up," she already pulled out her phone.

"Burger!" Alfred jumped excitedly. "Seriously, it's so hard trying to find a good burger joint here."

With a frown, Arthur clucked, "Absolutely not, Alfred. You have a game tomorrow. Take care of your body and eat something healthier," turning to Elizabeta, he hummed thoughtfully, "Let's go to one of the Mediterranean restaurants you suggested last week."

Elizabeta hid a small smirk as she shook her head, "You know, since it's Alfred's big game tomorrow, we should treat him with what he wants."

Arthur let out a sigh as he glanced at Alfred once. He really hated burgers…but if it would help Alfred gain the confidence he needed for tomorrow, he supposed it was okay. Rubbing the back of his neck, he nodded his head slowly, "Fine…burgers it is…"

"YES!" Alfred jumped into the air before hugging Arthur tightly, "Thank you! I'll give you tips on which burgers you should try, you'll just love them!"

* * *

Arthur toyed around with his phone as they walked into the shopping center. Glancing up for a second, he turned to Alfred and hid a smile when he saw the American teen widen his eyes with wonder. He slowed down slightly and softly asked, "Have you never been to a shopping center before?"

Alfred turned to Arthur with a bright smile, "I've been to malls before, but I've never been to a European mall! So pretty," he turned back to the ceiling and admired the glass. "I wish I could come back here."

Arthur nodded his head as he glanced forward at Elizabeta. She was far enough, so she most probably could not hear their conversation. Turning to Alfred, Arthur shrugged his shoulders, "If you want…you can come with me…" he mentioned it so softly he thought Alfred would miss it.

But, the American sharply turned and widened his eyes, "Really?" he already had a bounce to his step.

Arthur nodded his head slowly, "Yeah," he muttered. "Senior ball is coming up, so I need to get measured for a suit."

The smile on Alfred's face slightly dimmed, yet he had a teasing voice as he asked, "Have a date for the night?"

Taking a deep breath, he ignored the question as his eyes skimmed through the signs. When he heard Alfred protest, and Arthur shook his head, "No one asked, and I refuse to ask someone. So no, I don't have any acquaintance for the night," he mentioned flatly.

"If someone were to ask, would you say yes?" Alfred's voice turned hopeful once again. "Like someone who's really,  _really_  interested in you."

Arthur hummed as he glanced to the side. If someone asked him? No one was ever interested in him before. Sneaking a glance towards Alfred, he quickly imagined what it would be like to take Alfred to the ball. They would probably dance a bit, he would probably get Alfred some sweets, the other couples would probably stare at them in wonder, and Elizabeta would have more than enough material for a surprise epilogue.

"I'm not interested in taking anyone," he frowned. Besides, as student body president, he would be too busy to pay attention to his date. Glancing over to the side, momentarily, he noticed that Alfred's shoulders were slightly slumped. "Though," he murmured, "I suppose I could make an exception if the right person comes along."

Before he could even hear Alfred's response, Arthur quickly moved forward and walked in step with Elizabeta. She glanced up from her phone briefly to acknowledge Arthur, "Done talking with your future husband?"

"Excuse me?" Arthur widened his eyes as he took a step back. Elizabeta rolled her eyes as she motioned to the curious teen who was a couple of steps behind them. Shaking his head, Arthur enunciated, "Charming you would think so, but there is nothing between Alfred and me."

"Not yet, that's why I said  _future_ ," Elizabeta frowned as she tapped on her phone.

"Well, I can assure you that I will be very much single," Arthur crossed his arms and ignored Elizabeta's snort. Pressing the elevator button, Arthur turned to Elizabeta, "So, about the venue?"

"Already have the schedule of who's doing what. Francis approved of it two days ago."

"So, then, why the hell am I here?"

Elizabeta glanced up with a grin, "I needed some inspiration since practice was  _super_  boring. This night is not for me but for you two."

As Arthur glanced behind him warily, he could only think of the devastating scenarios Elizabeta would come up with. He had worked with Elizabeta previously, so he somewhat knew of her thought process. It was simple really, she could twist anything into a romance novel. If he drank water, she would claim he was thirsty for love, or some other bullshit.

He needed to get out now.

"Ah the elevator is here," she announced as she pushed Arthur in.

As he stumbled to the corner, he felt another body collide into him. As he struggled to turn, he lost his breath when he noticed the baby blue eyes that he had come to grow fond of. They were a mere three centimeters away from each other. Three centimeters away from each other in an otherwise empty elevator.

"Elizabeta," he hissed. "What the hell? Move over."

Alfred was pressed a little closer to him, while Elizabeta groaned, "Arthur! You know I like to have as much space as possible when I'm in an elevator. Alfred, you don't mind do you?" she pushed Alfred so he was only two centimeters away from Arthur.

Alfred laughed as Arthur was enveloped in his minty breath. It was a warm surprise. He saw the American teen scarfing down pizza and expected pizza breath.

Adjusting his glasses, Alfred turned slightly to give a charming grin, "Not at all. Anything for the lady."

Arthur placed his palms on Alfred's chest to push him away, because this was all utterly ridiculous, but the elevator opened once more and a group of people entered the elevator. This time, Alfred took a step forward and now they were only half a centimeter away.

Glancing away, Arthur tried to think of something else, anything else. Student council. His friends. His insufferable brothers. Anything to distract him.

Alfred leaned in closer to whisper, "You know, I never saw you blush before."

He quickly turned back, which was a big enough mistake, as their noses brushed. For the first time, Alfred wasn't blushing. He took a shallow breath, "Why aren't you blushing?"

His left dimple appeared as he shrugged his shoulders slightly, "I guess you're doing it for me."

After Alfred mentioned those words, it seemed as though the elevator suddenly grew warmer.

Alfred's cool breath tickled his skin again, causing him to close his eyes, "Hey Arthur," he murmured. Arthur nodded his head softly. "We're here."

He took a step back, and Arthur opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was not Alfred, but Elizabeta's smirk. Grumbling he pushed Alfred out of the way and stomped forward. Elizabeta ran after him and teased, "I have so much writing material."

"Shut up," Arthur muttered.

"And I'll have so much more material by the end of the night," Elizabeta sang, "I'm so thrilled!"

Once they entered the burger place, Elizabeta took her seat as Arthur stared at the remaining chairs. Alfred came right behind him and Arthur pulled out a chair.

He had two options in terms of seating. One was to sit next to Alfred, and the other option was to sit across from Alfred.

If he sat next to Alfred, Elizabeta could read the situation in the wrong manner by claiming that he sat next to Alfred because he couldn't bare the idea of being apart from his "future" husband. But if sat across from Alfred, Elizabeta might think he picked the seat so he could stare at Alfred the whole night.

Clearing her throat, Elizabeta rolled her eyes, "Anytime now Arthur. Once you sit down, we can order."

Arthur slipped into the seat right next to Elizabeta.

As long as he did not look at Alfred—or even glance at Alfred—he would be dandy. Snatching the menu, he started to scan the items quickly. The quicker they could finish the night, the sooner he would get away from Elizabeta.

"So, the senior ball…," Alfred started to ask. "Do you have a date to the ball?"

Elizabeta nodded her head, "Roderich is taking me." Elizabeta turned to Arthur.

"Don't bother," Arthur grit out. "I didn't magically gain a human companion for the night."

When he heard the conversation continue, with Elizabeta giving him tips about football, he relaxed into his seat. Pulling out his phone, he pretended to be preoccupied by pulling up a BBC article.

Once their order came, Arthur's next problem magically appeared before him.

He absolutely hated it when people did not eat their food properly. Alfred, it seems, eats as if the world is ending. The bloody fool doesn't even take the time to chew… Though he digresses.

What he hates most is when ketchup, or some other food, is smeared across the corner of someone's mouth. His fingers twitched to reach for a paper napkin to wipe away the ketchup. But every time he glanced at the napkin, he could see Elizabeta straighten slightly in her seat.

_Look away, Arthur. You can't hate something if you don't know it exists…_

Instead, he spent the night observing other customers. Customers of all ages. Each person had a unique background. He was even sure that a couple of the customers were here on dates. He turned to his table and took care to not glance at Alfred. He wondered what the other customers thought of them. Did they think this was a friendly outing? Or did they think that Arthur was the third wheel on a date?

Alfred and Elizabeta were chatting away happily while Arthur was sitting awkwardly.

"Hey Arthur?"

Arthur glanced at his burger with a frown, "Yes?"

"Can I take a bite of your burger?"

Arthur pushed his plate towards Alfred without a second thought, "Go crazy," he muttered.

"Thanks dude! Here why don't you try mine? It's super good, I promise!"

Arthur nodded his head absentmindedly as he picked up the burger and chewed. The first taste he had was of the ketchup, but as he continued to chew, he nodded his head in appreciation. It wasn't nearly as bad as he thought. Taking a second bite, the corners of his mouth lifted.

This night was not nearly as awful as he initially thought it to be.

Feeling his phone buzz, he placed the burger down and reached for his phone. Opening his texts, he nearly choked when he saw Elizabeta's text.

**Elizabeta Héderváry:** Indirect kiss ;) Can't wait for the actual!

He turned in her direction with his fists clenched. He absolutely did not anticipate Alfred leaning forward and clucking, "Artie, I kind of expected more from you," using his thumb, Alfred wiped off the ketchup the stained the corner of Arthur's lips. "You're such a messy eater, dude."

His phone buzzed again, and this time when he looked, he could see Elizabeta's smirk from the corner of his eyes.

**Elizabeta Héderváry:**  My ship has sailed ;D

_Dammit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hypocritical_Romantic, I hope you approve of this chapter. 
> 
> See you guys next week!


	7. Chapter 7

His favorite place on campus, besides the student council room, was the library. The intoxicating smell of parchment, the lull of whispers, and the tall domineering shelves filled with all the knowledge you could possibly ever crave to know about.

It was truly the place to be.

In his freshman year, he found a small desk at the back of the library that was right next to a large window. Whenever he was struggling with his schoolwork, he would lock himself away from the world at this seat. He certainly did not approve of vandalism, but for the sakes of keeping his wonderful desk, he carved out his initials in the corner.

No one ever bothered to sit there again.

Taking a deep breath, he chewed on the bottom of his pen as he reread his senior thesis. It wasn't the worst, but it certainly wasn't the best. Flipping back to the first page, he scribbled down, "Lukewarm, next time spend less time blithering about complete nonsense expecting the teacher to ignore it all."

With a groan, he collapsed on the table and took a deep breath.

Unlike the other days were the library was calm, today it was charged with energy. Correcting his essay was a bloody nightmare because of all the coarse whispering around him. He was quite sure the librarian gave up with trying to quiet down students.

"The Engineering school will win for sure, by a three-point lead!"

He snorted and sat up. Sliding his laptop back into his backpack, he rolled his eyes hearing all of the betting odds that were cast. The whole school was convinced that the Engineering school would win. It was all a matter of the margin at which they'll win. Most people were convinced that Ludwig would lead his team to victory by at least two points.

But Arthur was confident they would win by a one point lead. The Business school was tough, and Vash wouldn't let his team give up so easily.

As he walked through a tall bookshelf, his eyes immediately caught a stubborn blond cowlick from between the crevices. Pushing the books away, he leaned closer and a smile found itself on his face when he realized that it was the American teen.

The American teen who was actually studying.

 _Studying_!

Arthur grinned as he walked closer. Observing the title, he nodded his head in appreciation. Alfred was studying the theory of relativity. He had no idea what it entailed, but it sounded complicated and intelligent.

At least Alfred was being a model student as opposed to all the other blithering students in the building who were too busy betting on a silly game.

Arthur held his hand up and was about to call out, "Hello!" At least that was the plan until he noticed the raging blush on Alfred's face.

He might not know what the theory of relativity was, but he was fairly sure that it was no blushing matter. Reaching for the book, Arthur tipped it over and froze when he saw  _Eros_ , the third book, in Alfred's hands.

Innocent, sweet, little Alfred reading  _Eros_?

His mouth dropped open in surprise as Alfred glanced up at him in shock. Quickly closing the book, he flipped it over and stammered, "I-it's not what you think!"

"So, I was being delusional about you reading this?" Arthur asked slowly.

"No…I mean…argh! Francis told me I should read this to take my mind off the game today," Alfred hid his face in his hands.

Arthur reached over for the book and frowned, "What page were you reading last?"

Alfred looked away, "I don't want to tell you, you'll blush."

"Blush?" Arthur snorted. "I don't blush as easily as you, Alfred. I've read the whole series at least three times now, once in front of my grandmother even." He leaned on the table with a smirk, "Though now I really am interested, what page were you on last?"

Alfred hid his face in his hands, "Page 17."

Arthur frowned as he flipped through the pages. The first few pages didn't even contain the racier content. As he opened the seventeenth page, he felt the blood rush up to his cheeks, "Oh," he muttered as he closed the book. He handed it back to Alfred and awkwardly patted the American teen's back, "Good luck for the game," he scratched the back of his head and raised a brow, "err…I don't know if I want to know…but why did that page make you blush so badly?"

Alfred slipped the book into his backpack as he shrugged, "Ignatius is hella cute." Alfred had a small grin, "Makes me have thoughts my grandmother would certainly not approve of."

Arthur nodded his head slowly as he took a deep breath, "F-fascinating…," glancing around the library, he softly muttered, "This stays between us, alright?"

Alfred nodded his head, "I wasn't planning on telling anyone." After a moment, he added, "I'll be looking out for you during the game, though," Alfred gave him an award-winning grin before he left the library.

_Thoughts my grandmother would certainly not approve of._

He'll need to have a word with Elizabeta and her posse.

* * *

Arthur slumped in his seat as he tried to ignore all the background noise. He had one goal today, and that was to observe Alfred's playing style. He didn't expect perfection, but if he was able to spot a few fallacies, he could coach Alfred in those areas.

"What are you looking at  _rosbif_?" Francis fell down in his seat and handed Arthur a pack of Jaffa cakes.

"Alfred," Arthur opened the package and devoured the cake without taking his eyes off the field. "Have to make sure he doesn't make a fool out of himself."

Antonio sat down on his other side and flung an arm around Arthur, "You can still observe Alfred without glaring holes into the field," Antonio leaned over and reached for a cake.

Arthur swatted Antonio's arm and momentarily lost his attention on Alfred by shifting his attention to Ludwig's dribbling. Going back to Alfred, he noticed that Alfred stood there stiff while his eyes were slightly shifty. Every now and then, he would glance back at the stands and when his blue eyes met Arthur's green ones, Alfred would freeze up even more.

This was certainly in stark contrast to his disposition at the library this morning.

Sitting up straighter, his brows came together in concentration as he saw Alfred take possession of the ball. Dribbling it, Alfred's form was completely off. It was so abysmal that he was surprised no one on the other team stole the ball from Alfred.

"Oh la la," Francis winced. "Such awful timing."

Arthur nodded his head and winced when Lukas stole the ball and ran away with it.

Francis sighed as he pulled out his notebook. Quickly scribbling down notes, he muttered, "You know, I think they've improved. They might put up a good fight when we play them next week."

"Doubt it," Arthur muttered as he pulled out another cake, "They have better coordination, but, if you notice, their offense is highly lacking. We've been watching this game for the past forty minutes and thirty-five of those minutes, the Engineering team had possession of the ball, and this is taking into consideration Alfred's lack of playing. If there is any team we should be worried about, it's Ludwig's."

Antonio grinned as he winked at his boyfriend, Lovino, "I don't mind playing against Lovino at the final match."

Francis rolled his eyes as he continued writing down the notes, " _Ferme ta bouche_ , you just want to flirt with your boyfriend." Flipping the page, Francis muttered, "And Arthur, it would be quite spectacular if you take your eyes off your future husband and let me know any weaknesses Mathias has."

"Use your own eyes, frog," Arthur chose to ignore Francis's other statement. Picking a fight with Francis while the game was happening would be bad.

He could hear the frog sputter, but at the same time, Ludwig kicked the ball to Alfred. Arthur's eyes narrowed as he watched Alfred take possession of the ball. At the next moment, Alfred glanced up at Arthur worriedly.

Arthur cracked a small grin, hoping it would assuage any fear that Alfred was harboring. But two seconds after, Alfred started to breath heavily.

"Is he having a panic attack?" Antonio asked as all three of them stood up slowly. "Arthur, smile at him or something. Give him some encouragement! You too, Francis."

Antonio waved and gave a bright smile as Francis nodded his head and grinned. When Francis noticed that Arthur wasn't laughing or smiling, he gave a small nudge, " _Rosbif_ , I won't tease you, I promise, just give the poor boy some encouragement. He looks like he'll collapse."

Letting out a startled sigh, Arthur nodded his head. He was about to smile, but then he realized that Vash was coming after Alfred. With wide eyes, Arthur motioned for Alfred to turn around.

Alfred turned around and widened his eyes even further. Glancing back down at the ball, he took off as everyone watched with wide eyes. The last time a player ran that fast on the field was Feliciano during his first game when Ludwig glared at him threateningly. And that was nearly three years ago.

Within seconds, Alfred kicked the ball, and it slipped past the goalie allowing them to score a point.

Francis gave a slow whistle, "You know,  _rosbif_ , if this is our competition, then I think we having nothing to worry about."

"Shut up git, you did the same thing a few years ago," Arthur snapped.

"Yeah, but that was because I was running away from your older brother, who is scary. I don't consider Vash particularly scary," Francis frowned.

Antonio let out a humorless laugh, "I don't know what's worse,  _amigos_ , the fact that Alfred scored against his own team or the fact that their goalie allowed for this to happen."

The Business students started to cheer wildly for the goal while Antonio and Francis glanced at each other worriedly.

Clearing his throat, Arthur winced, "We still have the second half of the game, maybe they'll redeem themselves?"

They didn't.

It was an embarrassing loss for the Engineering team. The Business kids won, due to Alfred's point.

But what was more embarrassing was how Alfred carried himself on the field. In the second half of the game, he was tripping all over the field. Sometimes, he tripped while he had possession of the ball, but as the game progressed, he would just trip on thin air.

While Elizabeta was taking pictures of the winning team, Alfred ran off the field while wiping his eyes. Even the Business kids, who should've been happy with their team's victory, remained somber.

After a moment, Francis whispered, "You should probably check up on him, Arthur. Antonio and I will be there once we talk with Ludwig. Maybe he saw something before the game that caused Alfred to be so nervous."

Arthur nodded his head as he ran down the bleachers.

Before making a stop to the Engineering locker room, where Alfred would most likely would be, he went to get a few supplies from the first aid kit. By the end of the game, Alfred's scratches were red enough to be seen from the bleachers.

As he rushed into the locker room, he noticed a slumped figure on one of the benches. Alfred hid his face in his arms and rested on his knees. Walking up to Alfred slowly, Arthur kneeled down and softly whispered, "Alfred?"

"Go away," he mumbled.

"At least let me take care of your scratches," Arthur mumbled. He opened up the bottle of cool water and took a piece of gauze, "It won't hurt, I promise."

Alfred lifted his face up and Arthur could see the tiredness in Alfred's eyes. At least he wasn't crying. Alfred patted his hair, "Liar, it always hurts."

Arthur gingerly reached for Alfred's hand and placed the wet gauze over the scratch, "I try not to use hydrogen peroxide. This is just cool water if you were wondering, to clean up all the red." Using another piece of gauze, he cleaned the area up and placed a band aid.

"Everyone probably thinks I'm—,"

"Don't," Arthur grunted as he cleaned the scratch at Alfred's leg, "Everyone has made some type of mistake before." Before Alfred could interject, Arthur added, "Francis made your exact mistake our first year on the team, Feliciano ran away in fear when he saw Ludwig during their first game, let's see…and Antonio flirted with his boyfriend so much that he was banned from playing anymore games that season. And—,"

"Yeah, but have you made any mistakes before?" Alfred frowned as he offered Arthur his elbow.

Arthur dabbed a clean section of gauze on the scratch and nodded his head, "Of course." Reaching for a dry piece of gauze, he shook his head, "It was damn embarrassing. But, last year, I tripped while saving the ball—it's the first time someone was ever close to scoring against me—and my shorts came off for the whole school to see."

Alfred cracked a small grin, "I'm pretty sure it wasn't  _that_  bad."

"Oh, it was," Arthur handed Alfred a band aid. "My boxers were slipping off along with my shorts so I flashed the whole school. After that, I decided to get a tattoo."

"Of what?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

Alfred used his index finger to trace a cross over his heart, "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Arthur smiled and leaned over to whisper where his tattoo was. As he cleaned up the pile of trash that accumulated, Alfred's eyes grew wide, "Dude no way! That's so rad!"

As he tied the bag of trash, he turned to Alfred and whispered, "Alfred, I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable by staring at you during the game." He pulled out a sharpie marker from his pocket.

"I mean…it's alright…you were probably concerned," he mumbled as he stared at the band aids on his knee. "But…it was nice…that you cared that much about me." Alfred lifted his gaze slightly and cracked a grin.

Uncapping the sharpie, Arthur softly asked, "If it's alright with you, could I write something on your cleats?" Alfred nodded his head, slightly confused. He offered his leg, and Arthur took it with a small smile.

After scribbling down, "Fighter," he signed his name accidently and frowned.

"Oh dear," he muttered. "I should get an alcohol wipe and—,"

"Don't," Alfred suddenly said. "I like it. With your name on my cleats, it'll be like you're with me, every step of the way." He held out his other leg, "Can you sign this one, too, please? This cleat is missing out on the love."

With a laugh, he nodded his head and scribbled, "HERO," on the cleat.

"Arthur?" Alfred whispered.

Arthur turned to Alfred as Alfred was leaning closer.

Was there something wrong?

His eyes widened as he turned to the cleat, "Oh, I forgot to sign my name!"

At the same time he spoke those words, Alfred's soft lips came into contact with his cheek. He blinked many times before turning to Alfred, the blood already rushing to his face.

"Dammit, I missed," Alfred muttered under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! See you at the next update :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is earlier than usual, but I was feeling quite inspirational. Hope you like this :)

He cackled as he pulled out the last cartridge from the printer. Elizabeta certainly cannot publish her new book if there was no ink, whatsoever, in any of the school's printers. Even if she contacted an outside lender, it would take time.

And she certainly wasn't a patient woman.

He threw the cartridge in his basket and smirked, "Success, Arthur!" he patted himself on the back. "Sometimes, I amaze myself with my intelligence."

Picking up the basket, he skipped—because no one was here in school—to the Student Council room with utter joy. As long as he hid the cartridge under his desk, he wouldn't have to worry at all. Elizabeta would never get to the cartridges!

As he pushed the door to the Student Council room open, he froze when he saw Feliciano fiddling with his phone. Clearing his throat, Arthur gracefully entered the room and hid the basket on the ground, "Feli," he nodded his head. "Fancy seeing you here."

Feliciano glanced at him with a smile, "I wanted to pick up the tickets to the Senior Ball."

Arthur nodded his head and opened the first drawer on his desk. As the president, only he had the privilege to issue tickets to any non-seniors of his choice. Since Feliciano and Ludwig were relatively nice juniors, he easily issued two tickets.

Producing a clipboard, he motioned for Feliciano to sign the paper in the appropriate positions, "Make sure you read the contents of the document," he muttered as he turned back to his desk.

Once Feliciano signed the paper, Arthur handed him the two tickets, "Don't lose them, Feli, because I won't issue you any replacements," he warned.

Feliciano nodded his head with a serene smile, "I was planning on giving them to Luddy for safekeeping, ve!"

"Well then, I hope you have a decent night at the ball," Arthur picked up the clipboard and initiated right next to Feliciano's name. "Say, have you and Ludwig picked out what you are going to wear for the night?"

Feliciano nodded his head, "Both of us will be wearing ties that are as red as marinara, ve!"

Arthur blanched. So far, he knew at least three couples wearing red. Good thing he was planning on going for a blue or green shade.

"You and Alfred are going to be wearing red, white, and blue, aren't you?"

If he had been drinking tea, he would've spit it all over poor Feliciano by now. Luckily, there was no tea in sight. Though, that didn't stop him from sputtering in complete surprise, "Why what a ludicrous statement?! Wherever did you hear that from? Jones and I—,"

Feliciano blinked and pouted, "But isn't Frankie Washington the new boy Alfred? Don't you have feelings for him?"

"W-what?" Arthur blinked as he lost all the composure he built up. "H-how do you know about Frankie?"

"Ve? But Arthur, the whole school knows about it," Feliciano frowned. "Didn't you read the latest book?"

His eyes widened as all the circulation in his body stopped momentarily. How in the bloody hell did the whole school read it? Elizabeta only printed out one book.  _One book!_  And he was the only one who had the advanced reading copy.

The bloody cartridges were filled with ink, as well, so there was no way she used the printer before he nicked the cartridges.

Arthur grabbed Feliciano's shoulders, scaring the poor Italian out of his mind, shaking him, his voice was tinged with desperation, "Feliciano, where did you read this latest book?"

He stopped shaking the Italian. Feliciano massaged his temple with his left hand as he reached for his phone with his right hand. Flipping the phone to the other side, he frowned, "From now on, Elizabeta mentioned she would upload the chapters onto her online blog. Her first blog post is even about you!" his light brown eyes sparkled. "It's called, "Try shutting me down now, Arthur!" and it's about how you can't shut down the internet."

"What!" Arthur snatched the phone and pulled up the scanned pages of the new book. When he reached the last page, he nearly dropped the phone. In her preview for the next book, she drew a picture of Frankie kissing Ignatius on the cheek.

_Bloody hell! How in the hell does she know about this? She wasn't even there! Did she install security cameras!?_

"It was my idea!" Feliciano exclaimed with happiness after an awkward silence passed.

Slowing turning to Feliciano, Arthur's eyes narrowed into slits, "Care to elaborate, Feli?"

Feliciano nodded his head in eagerness, "Ve! Of course! I was on my phone searching for new pasta recipes when Elizabeta was moaning about not being able to print her new book. That's when I told her to turn to the internet for answers since it has it all. She complimented me, but," he frowned and scratched his chin, "she told me to not tell you under any circumstances. Though, I wonder why," Feliciano gave him an innocent smile.

"Ha," he dryly laughed. "Feli, because I am a nice human being, I'll give you five seconds to run before I throttle you."

Feliciano didn't need to be told otherwise. He bolted from the Student Council room in the same manner he ran away from Ludwig in his freshman year. Unfortunately—fortunately for Feliciano—Arthur couldn't catch up.

* * *

When he saw Alfred grumbling as he walked to the bus stop, Arthur quickly pulled him over to a corner and frowned, "Cover yourself!" Arthur pulled up Alfred's hood and pushed him to sit down on the bench. Glancing either way, he turned to Alfred, "No one saw you come here, did they?"

Alfred glared at him as he let out a yawn, "It's 5:30 a.m., Arthur. No one on this campus is awake. They're probably all sleeping, just like I would be if it weren't for you."

Arthur nodded his head pleased as he took a seat next to Alfred, "Excellent," he glanced at the pinkish sky with a smile. "I'll teach you how to defend against Ivan at the community football field. It's about—,"

"Are they even open?" Alfred snapped as he pouted. He pulled out his phone and quickly typed something up before slipping it back into his pocket.

"Two stops away," he finished flatly. Crossing his arms, Arthur slumped in his seat, "And I have a special pass. My brothers and I always played there, so the owners like me enough to let me play whenever."

"5:30 is still excessive," Alfred glared at the ground. "And why isn't the football field at school good?"

Arthur surreptitiously glanced around. His lips curved upward when he realized that they were alone. Turning to Alfred, he frowned, "Francis knows that I will teach you how to play against Ivan today. If Francis knows, he'll tell Elizabeta, and then Elizabeta will get ideas and inspiration to write the next book."

Alfred frowned, "I don't even know why you're worried. Don't you like raunchy romances?"

"Not when it's about me!" Arthur nearly half shouted. When he noticed Alfred's startled look, Arthur coughed and took a deep breath, "I mean, Ignatius is an honorable character. It's unreasonable to think he would participate in such an unpolished manner."

Alfred blinked and then smiled after a moment. Shaking his head, Alfred glanced up at the sky, "I'm pretty sure Ignatius will be honorable no matter what," he turned to Arthur. The top of his cheekbones were grazed with a light pink, the same color as the sky, "But, do you think you would ever be interested in starting a relationship?"

Arthur glanced away from Alfred and muttered, "And who would the other person be?"

Alfred grinned, "I don't know, maybe I should just describe a few characteristics, and you can tell me if you like them or not?" When Arthur nodded his head, Alfred began to shake with excitement, "Okay dude, would you ever date someone who has shoulder length blond hair, has a knack for eating sophisticated cuisine, and dresses very fashionably?"

Arthur's nose wrinkled as he immediately envisioned the frog, "Disgusting," he muttered. "I prefer people with short blond hair," Alfred ran his fingers through his hair appreciatively. "And I appreciate simple cuisine. There's no need for sophisticated spices and exotic specimens." Alfred thought back to his dinner which was a simple grilled cheese with a side of crispy French fries and a chocolate milkshake. Simple cuisine that was fairly bland. "And," Arthur continued, "I prefer practical clothing instead of fashionable clothing." Alfred scratched his head as he remembered the sweat pants and old T-shirt he was wearing last night. Was that what Arthur considered practical? Well, it was what Alfred thought was practical.

"Okay, okay," Alfred could barely contain his excitement, "What about short brown hair, loves a vegetable or a fruit," Alfred frowned, "you know what I mean. This someone loves to shower love—,"

"No," Arthur flatly stated. "I would never go out with someone like Antonio." He turned to Alfred who was wide-eyed, "That's who you were talking about, right?" Arthur raised a brow. "If it helps you, I'm not interested in anyone in the school."

The bus arrived at that moment, and Arthur jumped out and pressed his card on the machine. Alfred followed him and pressed his card quickly, too, "Wait, Arthur!" When Arthur took a seat next to the window, Alfred slid down right next to him and ignored how their knees were touching. Though, Arthur noticed this clearly, but chose not to say anything. "Are you telling me no one at school is interesting to you?"

"I believe that's what I said, yes," Arthur turned to look outside the window and smiled as the school passed. No one saw them. For the first time in days, he could teach Alfred football without hearing snide remarks about how Arthur liked to stay close to Alfred, or how Arthur couldn't stop gazing at Alfred's toned abs, or how Arthur does this and that. No one ever said anything about Alfred and his blushing, though, which was bloody frustrating.

"Like, you wouldn't even be interested in someone who plays video games 24/7 and who dressed up as nearly every major superhero for Halloween, Comic Con, and school pride weeks?"

"Both of those sound like dumb talents," Arthur mentioned crossly.

"Hey! Dressing up is not an easy task! You need to have the outfit perfect to every last stitch," Alfred frowned. When Arthur turned to him with a raised brow, a blush passed Alfred's cheeks, "I mean, it's not like  _I_  would know," he mumbled. "But it seems super- _duper_  hard. Can't believe you wouldn't date such a talented human being."

"I didn't say I wouldn't date that person, I just mentioned those talents seem dumb," Arthur snorted. Alfred turned to him with wide eyes. Arthur gulped and glanced down.

Alfred was fun enough to hand around at first. He was so clumsy and awkward, it was amusing to look at. But as each day passed—and as his friends kept goading him for his nonexistent (seriously, he had no feelings for the American teen)—he couldn't help but notice that his heart beat just a little bit faster whenever Alfred was around. And maybe every now and then, he would think about what Alfred was doing in his classes. The worst was when he reimagined Alfred and him playing out the romance between Tristan and Iseult and the romance between Romeo and Juliet.

The most embarrassing moment was when he was asked by his teacher to read out a passage, and he nearly said Alfred's name. Luckily, he was able to catch himself before anyone realized. But still…it was disconcerting.

And of course that kiss. It wasn't a real kiss, but still. If Alfred mentioned that he missed, then he was certainly aiming for something else. Was he ready for such intimacies? When he met Alfred the next day, Alfred said nothing about the kiss or even missing. His heart wavered for a bit, but he moved on. Because that's what he did best.

Move on when things became confusing. It was how he could stay level headed. It was how he was able to achieve so much. It was because he didn't let himself become invested in the little details.

But, he couldn't put a name to these newfound emotions, and it was honestly terrifying.

"But would you be interested in that person?" Alfred whispered. The question was so innocent, just like him.

Arthur turned back to the window so he could distract his erratic heart with the plain buildings that rolled by, "Tell me more about that person so I can make a better call."

"Well," Alfred rolled his tongue on the word. "Would you be interested in someone who believes in aliens and has a not so secret dream of flying out into space to find a certain alien friend?"

"I would think that someone is absolute nutters," Arthur laughed. "Does that someone have other unusual friends?"

Alfred nodded his head, "Yeah, one time he went to an aquarium and fell in love with a whale. Wanted to bring him home, but his father said no. So, he cried every day to go to the museum and he used the internet to learn whale speak."

Arthur snorted as he stood up, "Does he still know whale speak?"

Alfred nodded his head with a grin, "Yeah. If you were ever interested, maybe he could ask you out in whale speak."

"Thanks, but not interested. Regular English would be perfectly acceptable," Arthur muttered as they stepped out of the bus.

As they walked along the path, Arthur turned to Alfred innocent, "So this someone you were speaking of, if they decided to ever pursue me, how would they?"

Alfred blushed and laughed awkwardly, "Pursue you? Ha, ha, good question. I don't think that he has it all figured out, but he would be slow," Alfred smiled. "I have a feeling you like things slow and sweet. Maybe other people would give you roses, but I think he would give you sunflowers."

"Sunflowers?"

He had to admit, roses were his favorite, but receiving them was quite plain.

Alfred nodded his head, "Yeah, when he was a little child, he used to look up into the sky to try to see the sun. But his mother was worried, so she gave him a sunflower. So, he found the sun in the little sunflowers that he used to grow every summer." Alfred turned to him with a smile, "But now, he doesn't need to plant sunflowers anymore."

He couldn't feel his heart beat anymore. As he locked gazes with Alfred's sky blue eyes, it seemed as though the world around him stopped for a moment, "And why is that?" his voice was soft.

"Because he finds the sun in your smiles."

The blood rushed to his face and again, he was accosted by a concoction of emotions he never experienced before.

"And until you see the sun in his smiles, he will give you sunflowers," Alfred scratched the back of his head as he turned away embarrassed. Slyly glancing towards Arthur, his voice was full of apprehension, "So…do you think you would ever be interested in him?"

He gulped as he walked away, ignoring the question. Out of all times Alfred could've come into his life. Why senior year? He had a month left of school before he graduates.

As they reached the community center, his eyes widened when he saw Francis, Elizabeta, and Antonio all laughing about something. As he slowly walked over to them, Elizabeta caught his eye and smirked as she skipped over to him. Francis followed and smirked, "You naughty little boy! Thought you could hide from us? Luckily a little mole told Elizabeta and she drove us here!"

Elizabeta nodded her head with a grin, "Can't wait to watch the raunchy romance that plays out today! My fans will be so pleased when I see the amount of skinship today! Thank the gods for Ivan's playing style."

"Yeah, our ship is going to sail!" Antonio joked.

Elizabeta grabbed Arthur's arm, "Come, come! We only have a little more than an hour of practice! Can't waste it by standing out here!" she turned to Alfred and motioned him to come over, "Come on Alfred! Quick! My readers are waiting!"

Arthur frowned as he was pushed around by Elizabeta. Luckily, the shock of seeing his friends was enough to get rid of any trace of a blush. And luckily, all of them were so excited and distracted by the upcoming football practice to notice Arthur's lack of belligerence.

As Elizabeta, Francis, and Antonio made themselves comfortable on the bleachers, Arthur turned to Alfred and muttered, "Maybe, I'm already interested in him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if you were hoping for more comedy. I wanted to show Arthur's budding feelings. Next chapter should be out next Wednesday (not the upcoming Wednesday) unless I get another bout of inspiration. But if I planned this out correctly, we should be at the midway point. So, we're halfway through!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I thank you guys enough, but thank you so, so, so much for reading my work! I've been writing for a couple of years, but I never posted because I thought my work wasn't that great, but seeing your support is so amazing and it is what motivates me to continue writing! So thank you so much!!!

Arthur blinked as he stared at the list of items he needed to pick up. Frowning, he glanced up at Elizabeta, "Why do I have to pick up all these items? You have the car."

"Your name is on the bill, so only you can pick up the items," Elizabeta began sort the papers into their appropriate folders. Today's council meeting was filled with a heated debate on how they were going to fold the napkins on the table. Load of bullshit if you asked him, yet the rest of the council was interested in speaking about folding napkins instead of speaking about how they were going over their proposed budget. He had to cut money from the magic club just to buy balloons for a planned balloon arch.

"Alright, then, let's use your car to pick up the supplies," Arthur slung his bag over his shoulders and pulled out his phone. The game between Engineering and Science departments was happening today, and Arthur did not want to miss it.

The past week had been filled with Arthur slowly coming to terms with his feelings for Alfred. He did not like Alfred as just a friend, that was for sure. But, he wasn't quite sure if what he was feeling was love, as of now. But it was some sort of tangible feeling. All he knew was that he was going to confess after the game, and judging by Alfred's soft blushes whenever Arthur was near, Arthur knew he didn't need to worry.

Alfred liked him back.

"Can't, my car is being repaired, and this is the last day to pick up the supplies from the store. If you don't go now, they'll return it back to the warehouse, and we'll have to wait again!" Elizabeta quipped as she grabbed her bag. "Just take the bus. It should be fine, right?"

Arthur was about to protest. The bus was unreliable, and it would make the trip four times longer than it would have taken if Elizabeta had her car. But Elizabeta grinned at him and waved, "Of course it would be fine! See you later, invincible president!"

Arthur sighed as he glanced at the clock. The store would close if he went after the game, and they needed those supplies. If it went back to the warehouse, they might not get it in time. As much as he hated the theme of their Ball, he wasn't going to ruin the Ball for the rest of his classmates.

Hoping someone would be willing to drop him off, he sighed when he realized that his other friends were most likely going to the game.

Oh well, if not after the game, Arthur would find some time during their private training sessions to tell Alfred how he felt.

As he passed the front office, the secretary beamed at him, "How are you doing today, Arthur?" It seemed as though all the time he spent helping her paid off. The secretary now absolutely adored him. Every now and then, she would bring him snacks when he stayed late in the student council room, or she would let him get away with coming late to school.

"I'm good, ma'am," Arthur smiled. "Just need to pick up a few supplies from the store."

"Do you have a car, dear?"

He shook his head, "No, actually, I'll be taking the bus. I should go, now, though if I want to catch the next bus."

"Do you want me to drop you off, dear?" she asked while grabbing her keys. "You can save at least half an hour. Maybe you'll be able to come back before the football match ends!"

"Oh no, I wouldn't want to trouble you!" Arthur protested, but the sweet secretary waved him off.

"Nonsense," she said with a soft smile. "I'll drop you off and we can come back in time. "

She dropped him off at the front of the store and told him that she would wait for him to come back. He told her he would be quick as he ran into the store. Using the council's credit card, he paid for the supplies and signed off for the purchase.

Quickly stowing away the box in the car, Arthur slipped into his seat and smiled at the sweet secretary, "Thank you so much, ma'am!"

She smiled at him and glanced at the box which held items that were starry themed, "Are those supplies for the dance?" When Arthur nodded his head, she beamed, "Such a romantic theme! Do you have any special person for the dance?"

A blush glossed over Arthur's seat as he sank. She smiled and teased, "You do, don't you?"

"I haven't asked yet. Was planning on asking today, actually," he glanced down at his hands.

"Really?" she squealed with joy. "How are you planning on asking, if you don't mind?"

Arthur frowned as he shrugged his shoulders, slightly embarrassed he was telling his school's secretary all of this. Surely the whole school will hear about this after this conversation. "I don't know," he admitted. "Just planning on asking him, just like that."

She pressed the breaks and he jerked forward muttering a swear in the process. Turning to the secretary with wide eyes, he fearfully asked, "What happened? Did you run out of petrol?"

She shook her head with a frown, "You are planning to ask your date to the Ball without getting him chocolates or flowers? Even asking over a candlelit dinner is better than doing nothing."

Arthur blinked.

Candlelit dinner?

That was excessive.

And chocolate?

He didn't know what Alfred liked.

Though flowers seemed like a good idea. A sunflower bouquet would be sweet. Maybe he would see another one of Alfred's blushes. With a soft smile, Arthur nodded his head, "I suppose I could get him a flower bouquet. Though finding a flower shop which sells sunflowers might be hard."

The secretary pulled out her phone and grinned, "No worries, I already found a shop that sells sunflowers. It's a little far away, but we can make it back in time before the game ends." He nodded his head and then frowned as he turned to the secretary opening his mouth. "How do I know it's Alfred? Arthur, all the teachers have placed bets on when you two would get together. Most of us watch your one-on-one football practices through the windows in the teacher's lounge."

Arthur's mouth dropped open as the secretary chuckled, "Yeah, it may be too early for the students, but most of the teachers are in the building by that time as they prep for the day. You two are really cute! I'm rooting for you just as I rooted for Ludwig and Feliciano!"

If possible, he sank down in his seat further and further. Damn, he was too focused on the other students that he had forgotten about the teachers. No wonder a few teachers slyly glanced over in his direction whenever he spoke with Alfred during the school day.

The only thing that would make matters worse is if—

"And that comic that has you and Alfred in it is absolutely adorable! I read it online and—,"

Yeah, if he could dig himself a bloody grave right now, he would bury himself in it.

He tried to think happy thoughts, but hearing the secretary's words slip through his train of thought every now and then, it became bloody impossible to do so. Where was the sweet innocent secretary he knew just a few minutes ago?

As the came to the flower shop, Arthur quickly ran into the store and took slow breaths to calm himself. That was the bloody most embarrassing conversation he had with any adult. Even hearing the puberty talk with his father was better than going through that.

As his eyes scanned the flowers, he stopped at the sunflower display. His lips curved upwards as he remembered Alfred's story. Lightly brushing the petals, he agreed with Alfred. He could see the sun in these sunflowers. Picking up one flower, he frowned. If he was going to give Alfred flowers, he would have to buy more than one. He picked a few more, but struggled to remove the flower from the basket.

"Do you need help?"

Arthur turned and found a dashing young man. He smiled, "I can help you," he walked over and pulled out the sunflower delicately. Arthur's eyes dropped down to the employee's name tag. Davie. "Do you want these together in a bouquet? Or would you like them separate?"

Arthur hummed, "A bouquet."

"Sunflowers all? Or would you like anything more?"

Arthur glanced around the shop, "Roses," he muttered. He loved roses, and maybe including them in the bouquet would be good. But as his eyes passed blue hydrangeas, he pointed to them, "And a few of those, as well." And when he saw other blue flowers, he pointed to those as well, "Maybe put those on the side, too?" Blue would be a nice addition to the bouquet.

Davie glanced at all the flowers and grinned, "A large bouquet then."

Davie reached for the sapphire blue hydrangeas, but Arthur called out, "Not those!" He walked over to the flower display and pointed to the sky-blue hydrangeas. They needed to be the same color as Alfred's eyes, "These are better."

Glancing at the flowers, Davie nodded his head as he pulled the flowers. Going to the front, he arranged the bouquet in just the style that Arthur wanted. In the end, he decided red roses would be too much, so he went for white roses because Alfred was a pure soul. When the bouquet was ready, he smiled as he took a deep breath, enjoying the flowery scent. He scribbled down a few words on a card and slipped it into the bouquet. He hoped Alfred liked the bouquet. Really, he just hoped to see Alfred's pretty little blush.

While he slipped back into the car, he stared at the bouquet and wondered what he would say. With each kilometer they travelled, his fingers trembled in anticipation. This never happened to him before. No one ever struck his fancy. He didn't ask people, they asked him.

When they reached the car, the secretary turned to him, "Nervous?"

"A bit," he admitted. As they entered the building, he felt his heart drop. According to the time, the game should still be happening. Maybe they were halfway finished. Which meant in another hour, he would be asking Alfred.

He didn't know why he was worried. Alfred was going to say yes.

As he passed the secretary's office, he turned on his heel, surprising the secretary, "Do you have anything I could do to take my mind off this? Any menial tasks?"

She glanced at box filled with files, "Well, since the school year is almost finishing, I'll have to move the third year's files to the fourth-year stand."

"I'll do it," Arthur placed the bouquet on her desk and picked up the box. When her eyes widened at his speed, he gulped and verified, "It'll give me time to think over what I need to say." She nodded her head with compassion as she took out the keys. When she opened the room with the student records, he thanked her and turned to the files.

Slowly moving the files, he mulled over what he could say and how he could say it. Obviously saying in it in front of the school was a terrible idea. He preferred privacy, and if he said anything in front of Elizabeta, she may just get ideas. Maybe Antonio's wedding scene will turn into a reality. And he shuddered to think of how everyone's reaction would be to that.

He grabbed the next stack of files and stopped when he saw Alfred's name. Putting the stack down again, he pulled up Alfred's file and ran his index finger across Alfred's name. A few weeks ago, he was desperate to find out what was inside this file.

Should I open it?

He glanced down again and shook his head. He slipped the file in its' proper place. It was an invasion of privacy to open Alfred's file…but at the same time, he was a bit curious about the American. He knew everyone's background, but Alfred's background was a bit hazy. All he knew was of Alfred's grandmother and that he went to a private school back in the States.

Bugger all.

He pulled the file out again and opened it.

Alfred Franklin Jones, so that's his middle name.

His fingers skimmed through Alfred's stats, and he was fairly impressed that Alfred was maintaining high grades, and there was nothing disciplinary, either. As he flipped to the next page, he continued to read about the clubs that Alfred was participating in. He snorted when he found that Alfred was in the frog's cooking club. Probably was begging the frog to make burgers or something.

Flipping the page again, his eyes paused on the scholarship section.

Sports Scholarship for exhibiting excellence in football.

Alfred had a full ride to the school for being an exemplary football player? He closed the file and slipped it to its proper place with a frown. As far as he knew, there was no American football team. Could the head master have admitted him so Alfred could create a new club?

He came out and smiled at the secretary as he picked up the flower bouquet. She gave him a supportive smile and wished him all the best. Nodding his head uncomfortably, he turned on his heel. Alfred had been in the school for six months now, and never once had he approached Arthur for paperwork to start a new sports team.

As he walked over to the football field, his eyes dropped down the bouquet in his hands. When he felt his phone buzz, he pulled it out and saw Elizabeta's name. She was asking him where he was. Ignoring the text, he pulled up the browser and typed in Alfred's name along with the word football. He never searched Alfred's information on the internet, but now, he was just a bit curious.

Nothing came up, and he frowned.

The head master could not have admitted Alfred if he didn't demonstrate any excellence in the sport.

Could it be…?

He backspaced on the word football and type in soccer. When he pressed enter, he saw a stream of results appear before him, but what caught his eye was the second result on the page.

Alfred F. Jones leads his team to winning the Arkansas State Championship.

He shook his head and let out a humorless laugh. This was Alfred…he couldn't play. Couldn't even kick the ball.

With a frown, he shook his head. He would tell Alfred about seeing the news and both of them would laugh about it. How could bumbling, clumsy Alfred be a football—or should he say soccer—superstar? He laughed at the thought of Alfred playing good.

As he neared the field, he heard Elizabeta congratulate the winning team. Arthur's head lifted in amusement. So, Ludwig managed to pull his team to victory? Maybe Alfred didn't crunch under pressure. The mike was passed, or so he believed, because Alfred began to speak in a nervous voice.

"Ha, ha, I know what you guys might be thinking…how could the idiot who played disastrously last week suddenly play really good?" Arthur froze at these words. "To tell you the truth…I know how to play soccer—shit sorry, I mean football. But I've been…pretending." Alfred stopped speaking for a second, and Arthur thought he was finished speaking. But Alfred continued, "I've liked Arthur for a long time, actually," Arthur knew Alfred was blushing as he said those words.

"But Arthur never paid attention to me, so I pretended to not be able to play football. And it worked. I honestly think I have a chance now! But…I know if Arthur knew I pretended…he would hate me. Probably detest my guts," Alfred's voice wavered slightly. "So, it would be great if you guys can keep my secret a little bit longer. I'll tell Arthur, but it'll take some more time before he'll know so it would be—,"

Elizabeta's voice filled the stadium, "What he's trying to say is you all should shut up and not open your mouths if you see Arthur. As far as Arthur knows, Alfred is a terrible football player, and it better stay that way, or I will come after you," her voice dripped with venom at the last few words.

Arthur snorted as he turned away from the football field. So, everyone knew the truth. Francis, Antonio, Elizabeta…Ludwig. They all knew but they kept it a secret? Those wankers.

He locked himself away in the student council room and dropped the bouquet on his desk. Collapsing into his chair, he ran his fingers through his hair as he wondered how he could have fallen for Alfred's lies for all those weeks. He doubted Alfred in the beginning, but every time he was distracted by the American.

The door opened and Alfred's voice filled the room, "Arthur! You're back already?"

Arthur glanced at Alfred with slight disdain. Three days ago, he gave Alfred special access to the student council room, and since then, Alfred had been making the effort to come and see him after school. Now, he wished he never gave access to the American.

"Elizabeta mentioned you would be away," his voice was slightly nervous, and now Arthur knew the reason behind it. "When did you come back?"

Arthur stayed silent, hoping Alfred would read the dangerous atmosphere.

But of course, he was too oblivious. He moved over the bouquet and grinned as he picked it up, "Sunflowers! This looks great. Who is it for?"

"It was supposed to be for you," Arthur's voice was steely.

Alfred grinned at him, "For me?" He paused and frowned, "Supposed to? Are you having second thoughts about giving me the bouquet? If you like it that much you can just—,"

Arthur stood up and scoffed, "You're wrong, I don't bloody hate you," Alfred had the gall to look confused, "I fucking loathe you." Snatching the flower bouquet from Alfred's hands, he threw it on the ground and stepped on the flowers, "I can tolerate many things, but I despise liars," Alfred's brows came together, "impress some other wanker with your soccer skills, state champion," as he muttered those words, Alfred's eyes became wide with surprise.

"I-A-arthur," he stuttered. "Let me explain."

Arthur scoffed, "Save it." He brushed past Alfred and once he reached the doors, he turned slowly as his eyes narrowed, "Until then, don't bother showing me your face, bloody Yankee."

The door slammed shut as Alfred's collapsed to the ground. As his vision became blurred, he noticed a light yellow cardstock. Reaching for it, he opened the card and wiped away his tears. As he read the words, he wished he told Arthur the truth sooner.

Alfred, these past few weeks I've known you…I've come to appreciate every detail about you. Your innocence, your clumsiness, your vibrant smiles. I like them all. I know I only have a month left at school, but if you are willing, would you like to get to know me better like I want to? And…I don't want to scare you away…but I think I really, really like you. Never change?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry if this wasn't what you expected. But no story can come without drama? This will only make them stronger, don't worry. Plus, now you'll get a chance to see how Alfred wins back Arthur. The next chapter will clarify what happened in the six months since Alfred joined the school.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this. I never really realized how many people were reading until recently! But yeah, thanks for putting up with this crazy story.

One of the first sports he played as a young child was soccer.

It was the one sport his grandmother loved, so while the other boys in his class were interested in football, his attention was only ever on soccer. Every day, after school, he would enjoy a small game of soccer with his grandmother, and after they played, they would eat some burgers and call it a day.

He lived and breathed on soccer and even promised his grandmother he would join the United States' men's national soccer team. He was so sure of his plans. After high school graduation, he would join the soccer team at his college, and after that, he'll get recruited by the national team. And when he made the winning goal at the World Cup, he would proudly show off the trophy to his grandmother.

But when his grandmother's health started to deteriorate, his parents suggested he come to Europe and stay at one of the most prestigious boarding schools. He didn't want to go to Europe. He wanted to stay in Arkansas, and he wanted to achieve his dreams, close to his grandmother. Though, when it became too hard for him to visit his grandmother at the nursing home, he reluctantly agreed to come to Europe.

On the first day of classes, he was already running late. And his Canadian roommate—at least he assumed the dude was Canadian with the amount of maple paraphernalia plastered on the wall—was MIA, so he never really received the memo that school started a bit earlier than he was used to.

As he raced down the halls, he crashed into someone and tumbled down. The books in his backpack spilled out and were tossed in every direction. With a groan, he apologized to a tan teen who was busy rubbing his arm in pain. As he reached for his physics book, another pale hand grabbed onto the book. As his eyes lifted, he met Arthur Kirkland, student body president, lover of erotic comics, and soccer extraordinaire, for the first time in his life. Though don't fall under the assumption that he fell in love with the kid at first sight. Because he didn't.

Arthur's green eyes reminded him of his grandmother's back yard where he used to play games of soccer which was why he stared at the British teen for a second longer than what was normal.

"I'm afraid I'll have to give you a detention," and a British accent which his grandmother would squeal over.

He adjusted his glasses as he mumbled, "What?"

Arthur glanced down and Alfred followed his gaze to the untied shoelaces. "You're a walking hazard," the British teen scoffed. "Detention is at four, and you will have to report—,"

"I can't tie my shoes!" he stupidly blurted out. As far as first impressions go, he was already making himself look like a bumbling idiot in his new school.

Arthur blinked and at that moment, he noticed Arthur's next feature. The monstrous eyebrows. They were mostly hidden by his blond bangs, but when Arthur huffed, he saw them on full display and he couldn't help but feel intimidated by them. The British teen went down on one knee, drawing a blush from him. Gazing up at Alfred, Arthur sighed, "Give me your foot."

"Foot?"

Arthur nodded his head, "I'll tie your laces for you," when Alfred placed his foot on Arthur's knee, he was transported back to memories of his grandmother tying his shoes. With a small smile, he glanced down at Arthur—completely ignoring Arthur's lecture about the proper way of tying shoelaces.

After he was done, Arthur clapped his hands and stood up, "You won't need to attend detention because you didn't know how to tie your laces, but in the future, if I ever see that you are a walking hazard, detention, alright, mate?"

Alfred nodded his head, and he believed that it would be the last time he would ever see the British teen. But, as he was eating his instant mac and cheese for lunch, two seniors flanked him on either side. One was blond with long hair and purple eyes, while the other than the tan teen he bumped into in the morning. Thinking they were out to get revenge, he immediately apologized, "Dude, I am so,  _so_  sorry."

The Spanish teen blinked and raised his brow, "Sorry? Why would you be sorry? I wanted to come and thank you!"

This time, it was Alfred's turn to feel confused. The other teen lazily slung his arm around Alfred's shoulder, " _Oui_ , we wanted to thank you. For the past few years, we've been desperately trying to find a partner for our  _petit Angleterre_ , trust me, I tried last year to woo the rock, but he didn't waver."

The Spanish teen brightly added, "But he seems to like you!"

Alfred frowned, "He tried to give me detention." He was sure  _Angleterre_  meant England or British or something along those lines.

"But he didn't, therefore he is definitely in love with you," the Spanish boy confirmed.

Alfred glanced at both the delusional teens for a brief second. After going through a rough break up, he really did not want to start a new relationship, regardless of who it was. Shaking his head slowly, he shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry dudes, but not interested at the moment—,"

The Spanish boy turned to Francis, "Let's ask him again tomorrow, maybe he'll be interested."

 _Tomorrow?_  Frowning, Alfred picked up his mac and cheese, "I said I'm  _not_  interested," with a roll of his eyes, he stood up to leave the two boys but stopped and turned to both of them, "By the way, do you two know where soccer tryouts are?"

The French teen smirked, "We're not going to tell you until you ask Arthur to be your boyfriend."

Alfred rolled his eyes as he muttered, "I'll ask someone else, then."

* * *

 

He was sure that his classmates would be of help. On his first day, he quickly befriended a quiet Japanese boy named Kiku, and as class ended, he grinned with giddiness and asked, "Kiku, do you know where I can get information for soccer tryouts?"

Kiku seemed a bit flummoxed for a second, "Soccer?" he mumbled. As the cloudiness cleared from his eyes, he raised a brow, "Do you mean football, Alfred-san?"

"Yeah, yeah, that, so when are the tryouts?" Alfred rolled his eyes as he stuffed his textbooks carelessly into his backpack.

Kiku's head dropped to the floor as he muttered, "I'm sorry Alfred-san, but Francis-san specifically told me to not tell you if he asked."

Alfred growled as he pushed past the Japanese boy. This was the fourth person who said those exact words, and he was becoming exhausted by it all. As he pushed past the hordes of students in the hallway, he only had one aim.

As he pushed the Headmaster's door opened, he dropped his bag and crossed his arms as he faced Headmaster Vargas, Lovino's grandfather. Tapping his foot with annoyance, he raised his brow, "Headmaster Vargas, I hope you can answer this question," because no one else at this school can, "but when are the soccer—err, I mean  _football_  tryouts?"

Headmaster Vargas glanced at Alfred for a mere second before he went back to his model battlefield, filled with Roman soldiers in armor, "Antonio told me to not tell you, otherwise I won't get the latest copy of—,"

Alfred had enough. The school headmaster as well? How did Francis and Antonio have this much control over the school?! He honestly should've stayed in Arkansas when he had the chance.

* * *

 

Alfred grumbled as he stared at the food in front of him. In the beginning, it was great eating the exotic food. But for the past several days, eating such foreign food was wearing him out. He desperately wanted a big Mac and fries on the side. And even if he didn't get hamburgers and fries, he at least wanted some of his grandmother's famous puppy chow.

With a sigh, he stood up and threw the food out. He knew he was being wasteful, but he honestly couldn't stomach the thought of eating another crepe. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he rolled his eyes as tried to leave the cafeteria. He'll just head over to his dorm and stuff his face with the junk food he had lying around. Maybe eat a few Twinkies and some super spicy—

"Alfred-san!"

Turning around, Alfred's mouth curved upward as he saw his Japanese friend running up to him. Kiku had a soft smile, "I have something for you, Alfred-san. Arthur-san gave it to me," Kiku reached into his bag as Alfred's eyes slightly widened.

"The class president?" he asked unsurely. He saw Arthur walking around the halls every now and then. But they never really interacted with each other.

"Yes," Kiku pulled out a brown bag and handed it to Alfred. "Arthur-san specifically asked me to give you this during lunch, but I apologize! I was finishing up a lab."

Alfred shrugged as he grabbed the warm brown bag. Kiku nodded his head, "I'll be eating, but I will see you later in class," he did a quick bow before running off.

"What did Mr. Class President give me?" he mumbled as he opened the bag. The first object he noticed was the note that was packed. The penmanship was precise and neat. But he brought the note closer and grumbled, "Should've paid more attention when I learned cursive…let's see…it says," he squinted as he tried to make out the squiggles.

"Try not to look…so…oh! Try not to look so displeased," Alfred frowned as he continued to read the note aloud, "during lunch. I'm afraid I'll have to make a stereotype, but I hope you enjoy the lunch that I bought for you. I have already spoken with the Headmaster about being more inclusive of American cuisine."

He frowned as he gazed into the bag. With glee, he pulled out a double decker hamburger and noticed a small portion of fries to the side. Heading back into the cafeteria, he glanced around for the class president, but as his eyes landed on Francis and Antonio, his happiness fell flat. Did those two buy the burger for him and pretend that it was Arthur who sent it?

Marching up to them, annoyed, he asked, "Did you two perhaps send me a burger and fries?"

Antonio briefly glanced at Francis before frowning, "No," he flatly mentioned. "Why would I send  _you_  a burger when I have a boyfriend?"

Alfred turned to Francis, and Francis shook his head, "First time I am hearing about this revolting burger. Why would I waste my money on a—,"

"So, Arthur bought it?" he mused and didn't think Francis or Antonio would hear him, but they did, and their eyes widened with excitement. "You guys really didn't know?"

"No!" Antonio was jumping in his seat, "But that means he likes you back!"

"He bought a burger," he flatly stated.

Francis grinned, "But Arthur doesn't waste his money for anyone! I'm his  _best_  friend and he doesn't buy me anything."

For the rest of the day, he couldn't focus in his classes as he thought back to the burger and fries. Did Mr. Class President like him back? There was really no reason for the burger—,

"Alfred-san!" Kiku nearly yelled out in his soft voice. Alfred turned to Kiku with a blank expression as Kiku leaned over to turn off the burner, "You started a mini fire. Are you sure you are alright?"

"Uh…," Alfred turned to the beaker with the clear liquid and frowned. He might need to start all over again. Dumping the liquid into the sink, he ignored Kiku's shocked expression, "Kiku," he started as he leaned over and grabbed Kiku's beaker, "Do you know where I can find the class president?" he poured half of Kiku's product in his beaker.

Kiku grabbed Alfred's beaker and took back his product, ignoring Alfred's pout, "You can probably find him in the student council room. It's on the second floor. And," Kiku turned to make sure the teacher was not looking, "And if you want to get a passing grade for the task, just switch your beaker with the teacher's."

Alfred snorted, "Great idea."

"We all do it," Kiku muttered.

He ended up getting a passing grade after switching his beaker with the teacher's. Luckily, he switched it out at the right time because another one of his classmates messed up as well and ended up using his beaker instead. He lucked out while his classmate failed.

Today was truly turning out to being a lucky day.

As he stood outside of the student council room, he closed his eyes and prepared to knock, but the door opened and he opened his eyes. Right before him was the prim and proper British teen. His blond hair rested on his head messily and his green eyes looked slightly tired. Raising his brow, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

Gulping, he lamely said, "Thanks for the burger."

Arthur's face was still for a moment before he nodded his head once, "I see. You're welcome." He brushed past Alfred holding a blue file filled with a stack of sticky noted papers.

Alfred followed after him, "Why'd you buy it?"

Arthur stopped and lazily turned around, "You seemed to hate crepes. Any person who hates French food is a friend of mine." Alfred frowned, and Arthur rolled his eyes, "I can't have one of the students dissatisfied with their experience here at the school. Since you're from America…I figured you would like some food that is close to home." Arthur's arm patted Alfred's shoulder, "We've all been in your shoes, mate. Just let the student council know of any concerns you have."

Alfred grinned, "Thanks, dude." Rubbing the back of his neck, he admitted, "You know…you're a pretty great president. Tying my shoes, buying me a burger—,"

Arthur frowned, "Tying your shoes? When did I do that?"

Blinking, Alfred said, "On my first day…you don't remember?"

With a scoff, Arthur shook his head, "There are about twenty fifty students. I'm not going to remember them all. Anyhow, pleasure to see you. You won't frown again during lunch will you?"

Alfred shook his head slowly. Although he never asked for attention, people  _always_  remembered him. He was just an adorable dork that captured hearts. As Arthur walked away, he frowned. Maybe, just maybe, after this conversation, Arthur would remember him.

* * *

 

It had been nearly three weeks since the burger incident, and just as Arthur promised, burgers and American style cuisine were being offered. They didn't taste like home, but at least they were offered.

In those three weeks, Alfred tried to make conversation with Arthur whenever they crossed paths, but Arthur would only give him the same curt nod as he gave everyone. The worst part was when he talked to Arthur, Arthur forgot about buying him a burger as well.

But, as he spent more time watching Arthur from the corner of his eye, he started to appreciate the student council president, his adorably thick eyebrows, his messy blond hair, his exasperated sighs whenever someone does something wrong. Pretty quickly, watching the president from afar, he developed a small crush and that was what prompted him to go to Francis and Antonio.

"Alright, you guys win," Alfred sighed. "I'll give Arthur a chance… but it would be great if you could help me."

Alfred fully believed that Francis and Antonio would have stellar ideas to capture Arthur's attention. But their ideas included making him a clumsy fool. Whenever he saw Arthur, Francis or Antonio would "coincidentally" bump into Alfred—causing him to fly into Arthur's arms and cue the embarrassing blush.

Instead of Arthur falling in love with him, Arthur would scoff and say, "Detention for being a walking hazard."

He's had fifteen detentions so far, and he wasn't keen on getting more. Regardless of his crush, even he could do better, "Look guys, I—,"

Antonio's eyes lit up, "I have it!" Francis and Alfred both turned to him with slight interest as Antonio grinned, "Arthur loves to help out the weak and helpless, what if we pretend Alfred—,"

"Is incompetent at playing football?" Francis grinned. " _Magnifique_!"

"I…I don't understand," what he didn't know then was that it was a great, yet awful idea. By pretending to be incompetent, he was able to spend a few hours with Arthur alone, getting to know him at a personal level. As well as getting to know Arthur, he also gained insider information about the other teams, which was very helpful for Ludwig as they designed playing strategies.

But the longer he spent with Arthur, the more he fell in love with Arthur. There would be days when he eagerly stared at his alarm just  _waiting_  for it to ring so his day could start. It was never his intention to be cruel or mean. In the beginning, he felt a little guilty.

He was a soccer superstar, but he pretended to trip over and fall to gain someone's attention. He even kicked the ball at Arthur's face hoping Arthur would actually pay attention to  _him_  instead of that ridiculously lewd novel he always read. But, as Arthur's attention was directed solely at him and his body—he was quite aware that Arthur appreciated his toned body—he liked it. It was the only reason he put aside his guilt and continued the lies.

That, and Francis, Antonio, and Elizabeta—once she found out what was happening—were all great people. It was Elizabeta's idea for him to slowly take off his shirt to gain Arthur's attention, and it was also Elizabeta's idea to use a spraying mist fan to make Alfred get a sheened sweaty look on what was otherwise one of the colder days of the year.

Even though his grandmother would've chided him,  _he_  was the one who suggested Arthur's character in  _Eros_  to have a significant other. Elizabeta refused, but after much prodding, she relented reluctantly. He didn't ask for the character because he wanted to enjoy some romantic scenes between two fictional characters, but because he wanted to gage Arthur's reaction.

He knew he had no chance with the class president, but somewhere in the corner of his heart, he wanted to believe that he had a chance.

However, after their early morning secret training session—the one in which he text Elizabeta where they were going—he knew he had a chance, and he was absolutely thrilled.

He was going to tell Arthur at some point—really! He just didn't imagine Arthur's harsh reaction. But he knew one thing, he was going to win Arthur back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this is slightly disjointed. I had such a hard time writing in Alfred's perspective since Arthur was mainly the narrator in this story. Anyway, I will be moving out of my apartment this weekend, so I don't think I'll be able to finish the next chapter next Wednesday. But no worries, as soon as I finish writing the chapter, I will update it. See you then!


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